For Selfish Reasons
by BadWolfBabe
Summary: With the Wizarding War ongoing, Michelle and George do their best to stay normal. But can the couple stay together when so much around them is falling apart?  Sequel to And He's Loved You Forever.
1. Prologue

**Pro****logue**

I was awakened by the screeching of the alarm and two male voices outside my bedroom door.

George would not and could not wake up to anything that was at all soft, soothing, or pleasant. I was pretty sure he had enchanted our alarm clock to scream like a mandrake, but George told me that my ears were too sensitive. I flailed my arm around on his nightstand until silence rung in my ears. I glanced at the clock—I had ten minutes to get ready.

"She's up!" Fred's voice shrilled. He pounded his fists against the bedroom door, rattling its hinges. "Up, up, up! We're going to be late!"

"They'll leave without us!" George joined in on the purposeful banging. Both boys were lying—the Order would absolutely not leave for Little Whinging without Fred or George.

"I'm awake!" I hollered back just to stop them making so much noise. The boys erupted in laughter, and then continued their hushed conversation.

It took all of the strength in my body to move, but I managed to haul myself out of bed and over to the Mirror. Although it no longer spoke, I still used it daily. A picture of Cedric was stuck underneath the edge of the mirror; Cedric smiled and waved at me. I began to play with my hair when I heard the voices rise outside my door.

"It's not the right time," George whined to Fred.

"Who knows what will happen on the way back from Harry's though," Fred countered, his voice serious.

My stomach flopped. I tried very hard not to imagine the potential outcomes of this new Seven Potters plot; Arthur had reassured all involved that it would go as smoothly as planned. But my brain could only conjure up images of George coming home mangled, George coming home dead, or worse of all, George not coming home at all…

"We're not going to die," George insisted. I strained my ears to hear him say, "I'll ask her later. It has to be perfect."

Fred laughed, "Because you're the perfect guy."

I briefly wondered what they were talking about. Cedric played with his tie.

"Ready yet?" George cracked open the door and poked his head inside.

I forced a smile. George was wearing a suit—his and Fred's new fashion trademark since they hit it big with their joke shop—and he looked very handsome. I drank his image in, trying to commit to memory the anxious smile on his face and his soft eyes.

"Yeah," my voice cracked. I wandered away from the Mirror, and noticed Cedric wave goodbye.

"Did you get a nice nap?" Fred asked thoughtfully, something he almost never did.

I wanted to sleep; I had worked an endless twelve hour shift at St. Mungo's and my body was exhausted, but every time I got comfortable I saw George with Cedric's lifeless eyes.

I lied, "Definitely. I'm energized."

"Not sure how slept with us talking out here," George admitted.

Fred shrugged. "She's had a few years to get used to hearing us all the time now. Our voices probably soothed her to sleep."

I rolled my eyes. "That's right."

I moved in with Fred and George shortly after I graduated Hogwarts, but it didn't come without its battles. Molly vehemently objected to me moving into George's bedroom, but what could she do about it? After the guilt trip subsided, I realized that sleeping with George suddenly got very difficult. Sleeping together at school had been nice, but now we were fighting over the blankets, sleep schedules, and worst of all, that damned alarm. Living together was also a completely different situation. The twins were complete slobs, and aside from basic hygiene, had absolutely no idea how to take care of themselves. I had given them a crash course in making dinner (but they stunk at it even with magic) and doing laundry (the twins put this chore off until the last minute, which made our bathroom smell worse than the changing rooms at Hogwarts after a particularly long Quidditch game). Those first few months were frustrating and stressful, but I stuck it out. I had fallen very deeply for George Weasley. We had been together for over two and a half years, but it seemed like so much longer. He made me better every day.

Whenever I saw George, my heart tightened and squealed like a twelve-year-old girl. I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist and press my ear against his heart. I was usually so calculated, so rational, so levelheaded… But love made my stomach spin and my palms sweat. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I was a Trainee Healer for Spell Damage at St. Mungo's; on my off days, I helped the twins run their shop. After graduation, Kim had moved to Sweden to help rural wizards make ends meet—or something noble like that. At least, Kim didn't do very well on her NEWTs to justify doing anything else. Kelly had found a job in the Ministry, but went into hiding after the Death Eaters infiltrated last summer. I assumed she was with Kim, but I had no real way of knowing; Kelly did not tell me where or when she was leaving, nor did she leave a note of any kind. For all I knew, she could have been captured and executed. But thinking that way would only make me sick, so I tried to think positively.

"Let's go," Fred urged just as soon as we were sure we had everything. We had packed overnight bags just in case we needed to stay the night; I triple-checked my bag for all of the healing supplies I managed to swipe from work.

We apparated onto the Burrow's front lawn. The night was still warm from the day's summer sun. Fred ran ahead to his childhood home while George and I lagged behind.

George intertwined our fingers together. He told me, "You look very pretty tonight."

And despite everything that was about to happen, I blushed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Welcome to the se****quel of _And He's Loved You Forever_, _For Selfish Reasons. _If you haven't read AHLYF, I would consider reading it before you delve into this masterpiece (har har). I look forward to reading your reviews and stuff! :)**


	2. Waiting is the Worst

**Chapter One: Waiting is the Worst**

The Burrow was a mess of people by the time we arrived. Time felt like it was staggered, like nothing was consequential. We gathered together. We ate a meal. We stalled getting ready. And before I knew it, George had pulled me over to an empty hallway.

"I'll be alright, you know," he said, his voice smiling, "Don't worry about me."

I scoffed, but then leaned into his kiss. My body was shaking. "I won't stop worrying until you get home."

"You're doing an awful job at reassuring me."

I rolled my eyes. "Just… Be careful."

George held me, and I pressed my ear against his chest, trying to memorize his heartbeat. "I will. I promise you I will come back in one piece."

I was about to warn him, "Don't make promises you can't keep," but Fred interrupted.

"Ah, sneaking some snogging before the big event? Yes, mind if I have a go, sis?" Fred puckered his lips.

Normally I would have laughed, but it took all of my energy to ignore the now gaping hole in my stomach. Then, we heard Arthur yell for the boys.

"It's time, mate," Fred said, and with one last sympathetic glance, George disappeared from the hallway.

I stood alone until I was certain that everyone had left. My tear ducts burned with worry, and my stomach felt like it had been trampled by hippogriffs. I forgot to say I love you.

Once I heard the distinctive pop, I emerged into the sitting room, where Molly and Ginny were waiting, arms crossed, faces crumpled.

I'm not sure why I said it, but it felt right, "Do you need help cleaning up, Molly?"

Even though I was allowed to use magic whenever I wanted, I felt compelled to wash everything by hand. It helped keep my mind focused and busy. Molly was stunned to see me working so hard on the pots and pans, that she too abandoned her wand and began manually scrubbing the table. Ginny disappeared from the couch and went up to her room. I didn't blame her.

I didn't know how long it would take for everyone to get back. It felt like hours, and I was beginning to run out of things to clean. I glanced at the Weasley clock for an answer, but my heart beat faster when I noticed all of the hands were in "mortal peril." I decided to wash the counter, and then the floor.

Another hour later, I had absolutely nothing else to clean. I took to the couch with Molly, and together we sat with our hands folded, waiting. Ginny emerged some time later and joined us. We couldn't think of anything to say, but I knew we were loudly thinking the same thing: everyone had missed their portkeys.

Finally, we heard a crack. We rushed out into the yard to find Harry and Hagrid, who were supposed to be one of the last to return, hobbling towards us. Though a little beat up, they seemed otherwise fine. Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry and hurried him into the house. Hagrid, twice as tall and wide as the normal person, could hardly fit under the Burrow's small ceilings.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked anxiously, peeking around the house.

"No one else is back yet," Molly said somberly.

Harry didn't say anything, although he looked like he had a million questions.

"What happened?" Ginny urged, and Harry divulged about the Death Eaters. The Death Eaters had been waiting for the team, and an intense battle ensued. Harry had wanted to go back and fight, but Hagrid wouldn't let him. He saw Hedwig sacrifice herself.

I could feel a collective pressure growing on the inside of my skull, around my ears. I couldn't hear anymore. I walked outside to get some fresh air.

The cool summer air nipped at my skin, and my bare arms grew goose bumps. Crickets and toads chirped inside the tall grass, and the stars smiled from the sky. It was a beautiful night. I wondered what Kim and Kelly were doing tonight—if they were seeing the same clear sky as I was, and marveling about how lucky they were to be alive. George wouldn't have time to appreciate the night, especially if he was fighting for his life. The thought made me nauseous; I wondered if George and Cedric would get along in the afterlife. I closed my eyes, and tried to replay George's heartbeat in my head. My temple pounded. I couldn't remember.

Another millennia seemed to pass before I heard the familiar crack. My heart surged when I saw a familiar head of flaming red hair emerge from the tall grass, but then plummeted when I saw Lupin supporting him.

"We were betrayed," Lupin spat, and I rushed over to his side. "Grab his arm and help me. He's hurt…"

I didn't have time to think about what had happened. I only knew that I needed to help—now. Together, Lupin and I rushed into the sitting room, ignoring the gasps from Molly and Ginny, and placed George's limp body on the couch.

The first thing I noticed was the blood—George's face was drenched in it. Gently, I turned his head from side to side, and then I noticed it: his left ear was missing. I looked up and noticed Molly's horrified face. She was kneeling at George's head at the front of the couch, while I was kneeling in front of his body. Shaking, I removed my bloodied hands from George's head and reached for my wand.

My heartbeat was so loud, I wondered if it shook the room. I asked, "What happened?"

Lupin responded, "He got hit by a curse. Knocked out by the force of it."

Bile climbed into my throat, but I swallowed it back down. Gently, I took my wand and began removing the blood caked on my boyfriend's face. George didn't stir beneath my touch, but the steady rise and fall of his chest assured me he was alive.

I worked quickly on George, trying to ignore the shuttered breath escaping my lungs.

"I have no idea what this spell was," I muttered, mostly to myself. I summoned my bag of potions and tore apart the contents, looking for the tiny bottle of skin growth potion I brought. Molly nervously watched my hands move over her son's face. "Dark magic, definitely. I wonder if I could re-grow his ear. Doubtful, but it's worth a shot."

Tears threatened my eyes, but I willed them away. Suddenly, I felt Ginny's hand on my shoulder.

"He'll be alright," she reassured me with a smile. "Try to relax."

I hadn't even noticed how violently my wand hand was shaking. I smirked, "Right."

The background was filled with hurried whispers of the returning survivors. Hermione and Kingsley had arrived sometime during my assessment of George. Just as I had magicked a bandage into my hands, Fred and Arthur burst into the Burrow.

I had never seen Fred upset; he was perpetually in a good mood. Fred looked shell-shocked and terrified, like he knew something was very wrong with his twin. I was alarmed at seeing Fred so alarmed, and moved out of the way. Fred rushed over to his twin and kneeled in the same spot where I was seconds before.

"What happened?" he gaped, breathless.

"A curse got him. He'll be alright," I answered plainly. My hands were sticky with blood, and the sensation made me uncomfortable.

"George? How are you feeling?" Fred asked his twin.

George stirred, and muttered, "Saint-like."

Fred's eyes grew wide. "What's wrong with him? Is his mind affected?"

George grinned, and the familiar smile made my throat burn. "Saint-like. You see… I'm holy. Holey, Fred, get it?"

Fred smirked, and then shook his head. "Pathetic. Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for holey?"

"Alright, that's enough you two," Molly shooed away Fred, and motioned for me to come back over.

I took Fred's spot, and my stomach lurched when I saw George's face light up.

"Hey beautiful, I told you I'd be alright."

I couldn't contain the smile that spread on my lips. "No, you told me you were come home in one piece. Liar."

George laughed. "Close enough."

I handed George a bottle of foul-smelling green liquid. "Drink this."

George stared wide-eyed at the bottle. "Yes, ma'am."

He took a swig, and we waited a few moments. Nothing happened.

"Just as I thought." I sighed, "Sorry, oh holey one."

The twins laughed, but Molly grimaced.

"Lighten up, Mum," Fred encouraged. "George's a saint now."

I tied the bandage around my boyfriend's head, and listened to George banter with Fred about his newfound religious status. Ron and Tonks had arrived sometime during this process, and more hushed chatter filled the air.

"Do you remember what happened?" I was curious, but part of me didn't want to know.

George shook his head. "I remember flying. And then the Death Eaters came. Something hit me and I was out. What did you do?"

"I washed dishes," I told him, and he cocked an eyebrow. "Well, the kitchen is very clean now, at any rate."

Bill and Fleur were the last to arrive. Both looked very tired, and very sad.

"Mad-Eye is dead," Bill said. The room fell silent in respect. It felt like someone had punched my chest, my heart ached so badly. I clutched George's hand for comfort. He squeezed back.

"I'm glad you're alright," I told George once the hum of chatter resumed in the room.

George stared at me curiously, as if he was really seeing me for the first time. Then he smiled toothily.

"Accio!" His bag zipped across the room and into his lap. George sat up, despite my many verbal warnings not to, and rifled through the bag's contents. His fist emerged, wrapped so tightly his knuckles turned white. George and Fred silently exchanged words before George turned his attention to me.

"Where's your hand?" George asked, his voice shaking.

I was usually a guinea pig for Fred and George's newest Skiving Snackbox creations. I couldn't believe that George was thinking about that now.

I scolded, very motherly, "I am not taking any of those joke pills tonight, George Weasley, so you can forget about—"

George uncoiled his fist. In the center of his palm lay a silver glittery ring.

My heart stopped and my face went red. My jaw unhinged. I tried to form words, but my mind was completely blank.

"Marry me?" George asked.

It took a few seconds before I realized I wasn't breathing. I inhaled too oxygen, and fanned myself. I was suddenly very aware of everyone staring at me, at us, at the ring in his palm.

"Well?" Ginny prompted. She leaned over my shoulder, her weight against my shoulders. "Oh, George!"

"His mind's definitely affected," I joked, but only Fred chuckled. "Merlin, George, yes. Yes!"

George's hand was shaking, but he slid the ring on my left finger with a smile.

"Perfect moment, huh?" Fred teased.

I wrapped my arms around George, even though I knew he really needed to lay down and rest. I kissed his cheek in front of everyone and whispered in his ear, "You're perfect."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: D'awww, love! Let me know what you think!**


	3. The Wedding

**Chapter Two: The Wedding**

Being engaged was overwhelming. After George had crashed on the couch (even though he swore he felt well enough for celebration sex—a joke that prompted a sharp "George!" from Molly), each of the Burrow guests congratulated me on my new life stage.

Society tells you that when a woman gets engaged, she is overwhelmed with joy. And I was. But I was also terrified, upset, and stressed. I was committing the rest of my life to George Weasley. I knew there was no other man I would even want to be with, but it was still a constricting thought. I spent the first day of my engagement alternating between sobbing in the bathroom during breaks and excitedly retelling a work-friendly version of the proposal.

I tried to call my mom in America from a public phone box in London, but I couldn't reach her. I wished I could talk to Kelly or Kim, but I didn't have an address. Despite my sudden happiness, I was very alone.

Due to our conflicting work schedules, I wasn't able to speak to George until Bill and Fleur's wedding two days later. It was nice to curl into bed next to his warm body, but the brief moment of elation was always interrupted when George snagged the blankets away and sleepily muttered, "No, I'm cold."

I wrapped my arms around his lanky body and kissed his ear. Sleepy George always relaxed after that.

* * *

><p>I left for the Burrow at 10 A.M. Bill and Fleur's wedding wasn't until the early afternoon, but I wanted to arrive early in order to help people get ready, set up the tent and chairs, and do any other chores Molly invented. As it turned out, the Burrow was already a teeming mess of people—and most of the chores had been done.<p>

"There are still some minor details left, but otherwise we've got it all under control," Molly told me, although her voice indicated that she did not have it all under control.

"You don't need help with anything?" I reiterated, sounding skeptical.

My future mother-in-law waved me off. "You've done enough to help me lately, dear. Have you seen how lovely the kitchen still looks?"

So I went upstairs to change and help Ginny put on make-up. Ginny loathed the fact that she was a bridesmaid; Fleur wanted her make-up done in such a specific way that it took me three times to get it right. She ground her teeth into her gums every time I had to start over, although she verbally admitted it wasn't my fault. I hadn't known Ginny to be so emotional, but part of me knew it had to do with Harry leaving soon.

When I had finished helping Ginny, who celebrated her liberation from my calculated hands, I slowly made up myself. I had plenty of time to kill before I needed to help show guests to their seats. Ginny had already warned me about Aunt Muriel, and said everyone else would be "old and boring."

When I had finished getting ready, I decided to peek into the twins' room to see if George was around. But no such luck. Maybe outside? I hurried down the stairs, careful not to trip over my white high heels. When I walked over to the door, I couldn't pick him out from the mass of redheaded family members.

"Looking for someone?" the familiar tenor rang through my head, and I nearly jumped out of my skin with excitement.

George was standing by the kitchen sink, clutching a mug of tea. He looked oddly handsome in a maroon suit and a white bandage across his forehead, covering his ear. He was wearing a devilish smirk, and his eyes screamed, "Come to me."

My body hurtled forward into his arms. And even though I thought I had complete control over how I was feeling, I started bawling into his chest. George didn't seem to expect the reaction either.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, his tone somewhere between joking and concerned.

I laughed, and tried to hastily rub the remaining tears from my cheeks. "Nothing. It's stupid. It's just… the last time I spoke to you I was covered in your blood."

George laughed. "Yes, I see how that can be a little distressing."

"A little?" I repeated. "Well, so long as you understand…"

I wrapped my arms around his back. George lazily rested his free arm on my shoulder, and continued to sip his tea with his other hand. I felt comfortable, and my heart resumed a normal hum.

* * *

><p>There were more Weasley family members than I knew what do with. Honestly.<p>

At first there was a steady trickle; a kind family member or two who exclaimed (always with a dollop of shock) over the fact that George was engaged. When Aunt Muriel arrived, she first told me I slouched and that I stood like a man. In return, I told her I was a man and then showed her the ring; Aunt Muriel pursed her lips and hobbled away. This reaction seemed to endlessly entertain the twins.

Once I had shook hands with, kissed, and hugged more people than I could remember, it was finally time to sit. Fred, George and I sat up front for a perfect view of the proceedings. Fred and George, of course, had other plans besides sitting perfectly quiet and minding their own businesses. Fred wolf whistled when Bill appeared at the altar, and then continued to make rude comments throughout the night. George was not much better, although he seemed to shut up after I hexed his leg.

After Bill and Fleur had sealed their bond, the tent changed shape: instead of rows and rows of chairs, there were now tables and food. Slow waltz music filled the air, as did the chatter and cheer of the guests. Bill and Fleur shared in their first dance, a slow romantic spin that made everyone (including George and myself) gape unflatteringly at Fleur's figure.

The night was consumed by good feelings, good fun, and good food. It hardly felt like there was a Wizarding War going on outside of the Burrow. George and I took advantage of the merriment and did a few shots; we even convinced Molly to do a shot much to the crowd's amusement. The alcohol burned my throat but the aftereffects made me feel giddy. George's goofy grin confirmed that he felt the same way.

We tried to look for Fred, but apparently he had long since disappeared with one of Fleur's cousins.

"Looks like he beat us to the bedroom," I sniggered. I thought I was much funnier when I was drunk.

George laughed, stumbling a little over his own feet. "Ah, to be young and in love. Oh wait…"

I hit him on the arm. "Didn't realize I was your gran."

"That's gross, Michelle. Really vile. I only snogged the aunts. Muriel was the best, believe it or not…"

We cackled at the thought. Sensing our drunken laughter was disturbing Fleur's picture perfect wedding (Fleur scowled after I complemented her small tits for holding up her giant dress, and even Hermione looked annoyed when I flirted with Ron, "When did you get biceps? Merlin!"), George and I disappeared to a dark and quiet side of the Burrow, where the stars were our only company.

George and I sat side by side on the cool grass. The grass tickled my legs, which made me laugh louder than it should have.

"You have a beautiful laugh," George said seriously. And before I even had a chance to think of a reply, George's hand was on my waist and his lips were on my mouth.

The suddenness of his kiss reminded me briefly of our sixth year, all those years ago. George was a fierce lover. In our seventh year, he cared for two things: his joke shop, and me. While I was earning NEWTs, he and Fred were becoming insanely successful almost overnight. All for me, George had said. All for me.

I seemed so insignificant when compared to his past flings. And George hardly seemed like a man against Cedric. But we were quirky, and didn't settle for what was expected of us. I may not have been a number one rule breaker—and he definitely wasn't a bookworm—but something between us worked, and worked well.

George's tongue was warm against mine, and I felt fireworks shoot off in my fingertips and toes. After all these years.

* * *

><p>After some stretch of time, George and I ambled back over to the tent. The alcohol had worn off, making my body feel light and wobbly (and my neck feel pinched, thanks to my fiancé). There were fewer people around, but the tent still thrived with energy. Fred was still missing from the party.<p>

"How are you?" Ginny snuck up behind me, effectively separating George and me. Her face was red and floaty, like she too had discovered the fire whiskey—or perhaps stolen some alone time with Harry.

"A little drunk," I admitted, and Ginny laughed.

"Good for you." Her eyes glittered. "Have you heard what George is saying about you?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She snickered. "He's been telling our family that you got mad at him and cut his ear off."

My face burned, although I did find the lie a bit amusing. "He's a charmer, isn't he?"

Ginny and I chattered for a bit—Quidditch and her plans for Hogwarts. Ginny was like the little sister I never had, and I always enjoyed talking to her. We had gotten especially close during the second semester of my seventh year after Fred and George left school. Her blunt honesty reminded me of Kelly, which reminded me of Kim, which made me miss my two best friends very dearly.

Just then, the tent went dark. There was a loud crack and a silvery lynx was standing the middle of the dance floor.

Kingsley's voice roared, "The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They're coming…" His voice echoed the last two words ominously. And then the lynx vanished.

I blinked, and the tent was dark. There was screaming, the sounds of people disapparating, and my heart hammering against my chest. I grabbed Ginny's hand. Before we could think to make a move, a swarm of Death Eaters flew under the tent. Green and red light lit up the area. I ducked under the nearest table, Ginny suddenly lost, and drew my wand.

There was no time to think. It felt like a movie reel clicked in my head and I stood, shouting hexes and counter-curses at nearby Death Eaters. My breath was shallow, and I tried desperately not to think of George, if anyone was hurt, what was going on?

There were too many lights, too many people running all around, screaming. I could hardly concentrate. I whipped my wand to scream a hex, and watched a jet of red light streak past my cheek. I screamed a counter-curse, although I wasn't sure who I was aiming it at.

I ran to find a familiar face. The crowd was thinning. When I saw a black mask I shouted the first hex that came to mind. In between curses, my mind screamed for my fiancé. My heart hammered in my throat. The grass was cool beneath my feet, and it sent shivers up my spine. I felt like I was going to retch.

I saw George across the lawn dueling with a Death Eater. I ran for him, but a spell hit me square in the back and I fell over.

"Leave her alone!" George's anger echoed into the night.

Pain radiated in my spine. A gloved hand hoisted me off the ground. I struggled from his grip and ran backwards on my heel. The Death Eater raised his wand, and I knew I needed to leave to somewhere safe quickly.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to concentrate on my destination. When I opened my eyes, I was standing in front of the Diggory house.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Cliffhanger! Let me know what you think!**


	4. The Diggorys

**Chapter Three: The Diggorys**

The night was eerily quiet. Annie and Amos Diggory would surely be asleep by now, but I needed their protection. I rapped on their front door. No answer.

Panic rose in my throat, "Hello? Is anyone home? Please answer the door!" I pounded my fists against the door, desperate to make as much noise as possible. What if the Death Eaters were right behind me?

I heard footsteps and then a shaky voice, "Who is it? What do you want?"

I felt dizzy. I cleared my throat, and urged my voice, "Annie, it's Michelle."

The locks clicked open faster than I could blink.

Annie looked about twenty years older, even though it had only been two years since Cedric's death. Her hair was gray and wavy, the lenses in her glasses were thick, and she was wearing a long nightgown that might have been her mother's.

But she smiled like nothing had happened. "I told you to call me Mum. Come in, love. Quickly. My, you're bleeding. Are you all right? What's going on?"

Annie hurried me into the next room. With a flick of her wand, the front door was sealed shut again. The Diggory's home hadn't changed at all since the last time I'd been inside. The walls were painted light green, and portraits of Cedric hung from the front wall—Cedric as a newborn, wiggling restlessly in his crib; Cedric at 5, zipping around on a junior broomstick; Cedric at 11, his first time at the platform. A new portrait hung beneath Cedric at 16, posed with his parents—Cedric and I on the night of the Task, grinning broadly. That night seemed so long ago, but all of the feelings rushed back to me instantly. This made me feel even less sober.

Amos rushed into the living room. His hair had receded farther back onto his skull, and he was dressed in flannel robes.

"Michelle," he breathed. When I didn't respond, Amos embraced me tightly. "What's going on? Why are you bleeding?"

"I'm okay," I told him, even though I wasn't. I rubbed my hand across my cheek, and found streaks of blood in my palm. I pressed my wand to my cheek and muttered a spell; my cheek stung, and then cooled.

"What happened, love?" Annie magicked a glass of water, handed it to me, and then forced me onto the couch beneath the wall of portraits.

"I was at the wedding, and then Death Eaters came and…" I trailed off, leaving them to fill in the blanks. I wondered if George was okay; the thought made my heart ache. "Can I hide here tonight?"

"Absolutely," Amos said too quickly. Annie nodded in agreement.

"Cedric would want you to stay here. You can have your room upstairs," Annie offered. "Whose wedding were you at?"

"Bill and Fleur's," I said. The Diggorys had a blank look, so I explained, "The oldest Weasley son married Fleur Delacour."

"She was a champion," Amos said proudly to Annie, as if to remind her. "Just like Cedric. But Ced beat them all… Harry said so himself."

It felt like Amos himself was strangling my heart. I forced a smile. "Exactly."

A heavy silence draped the air. I ran my fingers along the slippery edges of the glass.

"How are you doing these days?" Annie asked. Her eyes were glassy, like she was trying not to cry. "We've missed you so much. We haven't heard from you in forever."

"I know, I'm so sorry," I said mournfully, and I meant it. Annie and I had written to each other briefly after Cedric's death, but I had lost touch after graduation. "I'm a Trainee Healer at St. Mungo's now. I work for Spell Damage."

"I'd always know you'd do well." Annie squeezed my leg.

Amos said, "We're so proud of you. Always have been."

Nausea crashed through my stomach. I forced a smile.

"How have you been… doing?" Annie asked carefully.

A hard lump formed in my throat. I tried to swallow it, but I knew I had to let it out.

"I'm engaged to George Weasley." My face was hot, and the words felt like sacrilege. "He proposed three days ago."

The silence got thicker. I focused my eyes on the glass in my hands, the floral pattern on my dress, the curve of my high heels.

Finally, Annie managed, her voice crackling, "Oh. Good for you."

Amos didn't say anything. He stared at me sadly, like I had betrayed him. I bit my lip and played with the hem of my dress.

Annie continued, "Cedric would have wanted you to be happy."

"He did," I agreed. I blinked away the sudden tears in my eyes, and confessed, "I miss him."

Annie rubbed my back in slow circles, the same way that Cedric used to. I hadn't really thought about Cedric in years. My depression after his death was debilitating, but as I got closer to George, the pain got better. But now all I wanted was Cedric to emerge from the stairwell just like he used to—Cedric to hold me, kiss my cheek, tell me he loves me. I choked on a sob. I couldn't break down right now. Annie and Amos didn't need that.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Good, considering everything going on," Annie chirped, but I knew she was lying. "It's been tough. Amos lost his job."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," I said honestly.

"It's nothing," Amos said sadly. Compared to losing his son, losing his job probably was nothing.

The Diggorys and I made idle conversation for another half hour, until the pain in my back was too much to bear. I excused myself to sleep, moaning about how exhausted I was. Annie and Amos made me promise to wake them if I needed anything at all; Amos even cast some extra protection charms outside of the house. Although it was nice reconnect with Annie and Amos, their son's death had taken its toll on their well-being. Cedric was their life, and now he was gone. I was the next best thing, and I destroyed it with the news of my engagement. But I couldn't go on faking. It wouldn't have been fair to them.

The Diggory house was quiet and lonely. The guest bedroom—my bedroom—looked exactly the same as when I had slept in it almost three years ago. I slipped off my high heels and crawled into bed. The sheets still smelled like Cedric. I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep, but sadness crawled into my stomach. This house felt like three years ago. If I wandered down the hall, careful on my toes, would I find Cedric curled in his bed sheets? The thought nagged my brain, even though I knew the answer was no.

Sneaking down the hallway, careful not to creek any of the floorboards beneath my toes, felt like three years ago. Amos was snoring in the room in the end of the hall. When I reached Cedric's door, I shakily grasp the brass doorknob. My heart was racing in its cavern. What if his parents had moved all of Cedric's stuff out of his room? What if his parents had set off alarm to ward off snoopers? But really, who else would come visit Cedric except for me… or Cho?

Poor Cho really got the short end of the relationship stick with Cedric. She never knew that he cheated on her with me. She never knew that he didn't love her. She never knew that he was planning on breaking up with her after the task… Maybe, in some ways, it was better that he died as her boyfriend. But I felt sore knowing that she was wasting so many tears over some guy who didn't care about her the way she thought he did. In my seventh year, she and Harry briefly hooked up. At least she was trying to move on.

Cedric's door swung open. I couldn't breathe.

His room was cold and dark. I quietly closed the door behind me, and lit the candle on the dresser next to his bed.

Cedric's brown bed sheets were tucked in neatly, like they were waiting for a warm body to crawl inside of them. His walls still boasted his Hufflepuff pride, in addition to several posters for local Quidditch teams. Next to the candle on his dresser laid his shiny gold prefect badge, and his Quidditch captain pin. I held the metals in my hand, remembering the way Cedric hastily pinned them to his robes every morning; how proud he was when he received the badges in the mail. Had he lived, Cedric probably would have been Head Boy in our seventh year. I gingerly replaced the badges, and picked up a large framed photograph next to his bed. It was a photo of me that Kelly had taken the summer before our sixth year when we were in America. My wavy hair was particularly large from a day of ocean water and salty air; I had raked one side of hair behind my ear. Kelly stuck a large pink flower behind my ear and instructed me to smile, quick! The result was me overacting a smile, and laughing at my own pathetic attempts to model. Photograph Me couldn't stop laughing; even I had to admit I looked beautiful.

Kelly had mailed the photo to Cedric as an early birthday gift and Cedric had it immediately framed. He told me he looked at it every night before he fell asleep, and every morning when he woke up. It was perfect, he said, just like me.

I swallowed the massive lump in my throat and resigned to ignore Photograph Me. I opened Cedric's drawers, and saw that all of his clothing was still there. His socks, underwear, shorts, shirts, Quidditch uniform, sweaters… I pulled out a shirt and pressed it against my nose, inhaling his scent. It smelled like Cedric. He was so close, but I couldn't touch him.

I missed Cedric so much it hurt. I never got a chance to resolve my feelings for him, and that's what hurt the most. I loved Cedric. If he was still alive, the ring on my finger would have come from him, not George. I was going to marry Cedric, and we were going to have perfect, honest, hard-working, intelligent babies. We would have held onto each other every night. Cedric would kiss my neck before we fell asleep and I would sleep easy knowing he was right next to me.

I hiccupped a sob a little too loudly. Amos grumbled and rolled over in his bed.

I needed to pull myself together. I brushed the torrent of tears tumbling from my eyes, but no matter how much I told myself that I was with George now, I am very, very happy with George, I couldn't stop bawling.

I quietly shut Cedric's dresser drawers and sat on his bed. The sheets molded to my body, like they were welcoming an old friend. So many memories were embedded in these fibers. This is the bed where Cedric and I first had sex that summer before our fifth year. We fumbled through the motions of lovemaking, thinking we were ready for those tough adult choices. Too many nights I snuck into this bedroom in the middle of the night just so Cedric and I could snuggle before falling asleep. He always made sure to set his alarm for 5 A.M.—right before his dad got up for work—so I could tiptoe back to my room.

Cedric and I were so pathetically devious. I smiled at the memory, and wiped my running nose.

And then I wondered. Like most other introspective people his age, Cedric kept a journal. He had let me see it once or twice, but in fear of being embarrassed by what he wrote never actually let me read it. I slid off the bed and ran my hand between the mattresses and felt a small dragon-skin book. I sat back on the bed and opened the pages with my shaking hands; the pages were blank—password protected.

I pressed my wand against a blank page and started muttering some of Cedric's favorite words and phrases: "Hufflepuff" "Dragon slayer" "Quidditch captain" "Badger pride". Nothing. I bit my lip and wondered.

"October second," I murmured, and suddenly the pages filled with words.

And I couldn't help myself: I began to read. Some entries were short and trivial ("Gorgeous day outside. I want a swim") and others were lengthy and emotional ("My father expects so much of me…"). I checked the date on the entries, and realized that I was reading from our sixth year. So where was I? I flipped ahead to our sixth year, curious what he wrote about our relationship.

Amos snored and grumbled down the hall. I heard his heavy footsteps hit the ground and move into the bathroom across from Cedric's room.

_October 2__nd__. It's been two years with Michelle today. I am so unworthy of her._

_ October 31__st__. My father is going to be so insufferable. A champion—me! Too many things going through my mind right now…_

_ November 22__nd__. I might pass out during the task. Cho's wished me luck. I can't stop thinking about her laugh and her smile. Bloody hell. What would Michelle think if she knew? It's just a silly crush, right? But why can't I stop thinking about her?_

_ November 23__rd__. Fucking cheating twat. I love you too much. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe Cho will be better. But two bloody years. Fucking hell, Weasley. Congratulations. You won._

_ November 27__th__. Nothing feels the same anymore. I can't believe she cheated on me. I thought she loved me. I thought I loved her…_

I made a sound unworthy of a female my size. What had I done to this boy? I tried to remember what exactly I felt when I was with George that evening, but it all seemed so silly. I was wrongly paranoid about Cedric cheating on me, and so I thought it was okay for me to cheat on him? Cedric was doing his best. We could have worked it out. But I gave up. And then he gave up. And then he fucking died. Cedric Diggory was dead and I would never be able to love him again.

I transfigured Cedric's journal into a hair tie and wrapped it around my wrist. I muffled the noisy sobs escaping my mouth by biting on my finger, but the pain only made me cry harder. Did Cedric feel pain when he died? What was he thinking about? Who was he thinking about? Was he scared?

Very suddenly, Amos opened Cedric's bedroom door. He sat down next to me, his hands wrapped tightly in his waist, like he was struggling to say something. Would he notice that Cedric's journal was missing? Did he even know where it was?

I felt compelled to say something, anything to explain my intrusive and despicable actions, "I just… I miss him."

And with that, I started sobbing again. It was silly really, considering how much Amos loved his son. For him to have to sit here and listen to his son's ex-girlfriend, who had clearly moved on, wail about Cedric.

But Amos didn't complain or tell me to grow up. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to his chest. And like he was my own father, I cried on him. I cried harder than I cried any other night in my life.

* * *

><p>I hardly slept that night. After exhausting my eyes, Amos led me back into my room. I fell asleep just as the sun was beginning to rise. The smell of warm pancakes and bacon wafted into my room and woke me a few hours later. I slipped on my heels and went downstairs.<p>

Amos didn't tell Annie about our late night interaction, but Annie must have known from how red my eyes were. We quietly enjoyed a family breakfast together. Annie wondered if I wanted to stay for the day to sleep and relax. My real life felt so far away, but I knew I had to get back to the Burrow.

"You're always welcome to come back, love," Annie kissed my cheek before I left. She must have forgotten that I was getting married to George. I almost did. "Don't forget about us. We'll be thinking about you."

"Thank you," I told her, thinking of her son, "for everything."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Let me know what you think!**


	5. A Long Overdue Confession

**Chapter 4: A Long Overdue Confession**

Coming back to the Burrow felt like I had time traveled into the future.

The tent from the wedding was still smoldering when I crossed the lawn. Tables and chairs were sprayed across the yard like decorations. It seemed like I had missed most of the battle. Was everyone okay? I played with the hair tie on my wrist.

Arthur, Molly, Ginny, Fred, and George were sitting at the dining room table when I opened the back door. George leapt out of his seat, but Arthur beat him to me.

Arthur stuck his wand under my chin; he looked furious. "Identify yourself!"

"Dad!" George hollered, shoving his father away from me. George put his hand on my cheek, and brushed the new scar I had earned last night. "Get off her. She's upset."

Ginny agreed, "Look, she's shaking."

"We can't be too safe," Arthur insisted.

My chest constricted, and I heaved sobs. Heavy, air-gasping sobs that made me feel like I was dying. Everyone's faces, even Arthur's, softened.

"Sit down, sweetheart. I'll get you a glass of water," Molly cooed, and forced me into her seat.

"Do we have a soothing potion?" Fred hollered from the other side of the room. He was rifling through the overnight bags we had brought, but couldn't seem to distinguish whose was whose.

"I'm… so… sorry," I gasped between sobs. George rubbed my back, slowly, methodically. I tried to concentrate on the rhythm of his hands, but all I could think of was Cedric calling me a cheating twat. I had been no better to George, and he had no idea.

"Try this one," Ginny suggested, holding open another bag.

"Accio soothing potion!" The potion flew into Fred's hands.

Cedric loved me, but he was dead. George loved me, but I didn't deserve him. I didn't deserve this life where friends were kind and understanding to me.

"Here," Molly placed the glass of water in front of me, but I could only think of Annie's water. Fred mixed in a few drops of the potion, and George handed the glass to me.

"Come on, love, you'll feel better," George urged.

I nodded like a child, and took small sips. Immediately, I relaxed. But the sadness still weighed me down.

"What happened?" George ran his fingers over my palm. "Are you all right? Did someone hurt you?"

I shook my head. Amos and Annie had nothing left. It hardly seemed fair.

"You look tired," Ginny told me pointedly.

"Exhausted," I corrected. George looked relieved that I was speaking actual words.

"At least her mind's not affected," Fred quipped.

"What happened here?"

Arthur grimaced. "The Death Eaters rounded us up and searched the place. When they couldn't find Harry they demanded to know where he went or where he could have gone… We fought them off. It was a long night."

"What happened to you?" George asked again.

My night began to replay in my head. I was going to be sick.

"I'm okay," I said, even though I most definitely was not.

"Why don't you get some rest, dear?" Molly smiled.

"Do you want to sleep here, or at home?" George seemed very anxious about my health.

"Home," I croaked. The twins moved about the room quickly, assembling our bags and other items. My fingers ran over the hair tie, and I felt immensely guilty.

I needed to tell George about Cedric.

* * *

><p>George was an emotional wreck—I had never before seen him so high strung and anxious. Even Fred joked that he needed to calm down, I wasn't about to drop dead. But George helped me change, despite the fact that I was capable of doing it on my own, and even tucked me into bed like a child. He sat on the edge of the bed next to me, his suit darkened from the dirt of battle.<p>

"I went to the Diggorys last night," I began quietly.

"Why?" George asked, confused.

"I needed a safe home, and it was the first place I thought of."

"Fair enough." George ran his hand up and down my leg. "How was it?"

"Hard. Cedric was their life and now that he's gone the home is just… empty." My eyes stung, but I willed the tears away. "It brought back a lot of memories."

George's body stiffened. "Oh?"

My heart climbed into my throat. I sat up, and made George face me. "I need to tell you something."

"Anything."

I needed to say it now, or I wouldn't say it again. The words tumbled out of my mouth before I thought about changing my mind.

"I cheated on you," I spurted. "Two years ago. With Cedric."

George made a sound between anguish and laughter. "What?"

"That night before the Third Task when I went to the party at Hufflepuff. We got very, very drunk. He took me upstairs and he told me he loved me and..."

I was going to keep going, but George rounded on me. He looked more upset than he did angry. "You tell me this now?"

"I'm so sorry," my voice got small, weak. "I didn't tell you because he died that next day, George. I didn't want to be alone."

"Didn't even consider how I would feel about it. I can't believe you would do that to me."

My fiancé paced the length of our bedroom, running his hands through his hair. He continued on his tirade, "And you tell me now, after two fucking years. And I'm supposed to feel sorry for you? Sorry that you're in love with your dead ex-boyfriend and I'm the next best thing? Cheers to that."

"George," I warned, but I knew I deserved it.

"If Diggory was alive, would you even be with me right now?" his eyes glistened with tears.

I didn't want to lie to him, but I also didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"I don't know," I answered meekly.

"Second bloody best," George spat. "I gave you everything I could and you…" he trailed off.

"I haven't cheated on you since then, nor have I thought about it," I argued defensively. "I should also like to add that I cheated on Cedric to get with you."

"Sorry, should I be treating you like the fucking queen?" George growled.

"You could try to show some understanding," I argued weakly. Tears poured from my eyes even though I willed them not to.

"Right, because you're the victim in this situation," George steamed.

"Cedric _died_ that night—"

"Yeah, I remember," he cut me off. George paced the length of our room, and then murmured, "I don't want to talk to you right now."

I shriveled back into the bed and covered my head with the sheets. A moment later, I heard our bedroom door slam shut.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Is this it for George and Michelle? Review and let me know what you think!**


	6. Resolution

**Chapter Six: Resolution**

It was a long night.

My body was exhausted from tears, exhausted from consciousness, and exhausted from emotion. But I still couldn't sleep. I read some happy entries from Cedric's journal.

_August 20__th__. Dad's got tickets to the Quidditch World Cup! He's taking Michelle and me. We get to stay in a lavish tent on premises. It's going to be brilliant. I can't wait!_

_ September 3__rd__. Michelle accidentally snorted her juice this morning. Recording for future mocking purposes._

_ September 15__th__. Got really drunk to celebrate my birthday last night. Woke up with a bruise on my chest. Either the best birthday sex ever or I've got to stop fighting the elves when inebriated. _

It made me feel a little better. But then guilt settled into my chest.

I rolled my engagement ring around my finger, and wondered if I should take it off before George asks for it back. Where would I live? Would St. Mungo's let me sleep there? Or maybe I could stay with the Diggorys?

I tried to prepare myself for the oncoming break up, but I couldn't. I fucking loved George Weasley. He was smart and funny and he made me laugh. When he kissed me my stomach tied itself into knots and when he fucked me my toes curled and I never wanted it to end. George would have gone through hell and back to see me happy. He fought so damn hard for me and I took his love for granted.

I hadn't emerged to eat all day, but I wasn't hungry. I desperately needed a shower, but I couldn't move. I needed to sleep before my long shift the next morning, but I wouldn't let myself dream.

As the evening grew later, I knew that realistically I couldn't let my own self-pity stop me from leading a responsible and hygienic life, so I slipped out of the bedroom to take a shower. The scar on my cheek was thicker and deeper than I thought; I reminded myself to ask a Healer about it at work tomorrow. The hot water burned my skin, but at least then I knew I was alive.

I took my time drying off and getting dressed. Why bother? I had nothing else to do.

"It was over two years ago, mate," Fred reasoned to George. When I had left the bedroom, I noticed George was hunched over our kitchen table lost in thought. "And considering Diggory died that day, when would the right time have been to tell you?"

"Any time before now, really," George said, his voice muffled. I imagined his hands pressed to his face, willing away sadness.

"I know," Fred agreed mournfully. "It's so unlike her. Why did she tell you now?"

"She spent the night at the Diggorys, and I guess it stirred up old feelings," George explained indifferently.

"What are you going to do?"

I pressed my ear against the bathroom door, hoping for good news.

"I can't leave her, can I?" George's hand slapped the table. "Diggory's dead now so it's not like she can run off with him. But if she's still in love with him, maybe I need to give her time to sort her feelings out."

"Something she should have done two years ago," Fred agreed. "Or maybe, like you said, last night only stirred up old feelings? I mean, she said yes when you asked her to marry you. I imagine a girl like her's got a handle on what marriage entails."

"I know," George said softly. "I just… I can't believe she cheated on me."

"Two years ago," Fred repeated.

"Doesn't make it hurt any less."

I clutched my towel around my body and slunk out of the bathroom, hoping to go unnoticed. No such luck.

"Oy," George said. He didn't make eye contact with me. "I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight. I need to think."

"Okay," I answered, my voice shaking. Even though I was dripping wet, cold, and scared, I said bravely, "I love you."

"No," George murmured, "I love you."

* * *

><p>My and George's work schedules never seemed to mesh. This made fighting especially cold and bitter.<p>

George spent almost a week on the couch. Every night, our bed seemed to stretch across our room for miles. Every morning, our room seemed too small to hold all of the betrayal I stuffed in my chest, in the Mirror's drawer, in the hair tie clamped around my wrist. I missed George more than words could describe. I didn't feel whole without him next to me, telling me he loved me, kissing my neck, laughing uproariously at some silly pun I made; I really did take his love for granted.

My engagement ring began to weigh heavily on my finger, so I decided to take it off. I didn't feel right wearing it when I didn't even know if George was going to forgive me. I began reveling the time I had left with the twins, even if I never interacted with them.

I had just come home from a very long and very late work shift—it was 3 A.M. My body was drained of energy, and my brain was ready to hit the pillow. The apartment was dark, so I dimly lit the tip of my wand and snuck around the living room. I crept into my bedroom, sure to avoid George's couch, and illuminated the room. George was asleep on our bed, the _Quibbler_ crumpled in his hands. He was still wearing remnants of his suit—his tie was draped over his alarm clock, his shoes were kicked off by the side of the bed, and his bandage was long missing. His ear—well, his hole—had healed nicely considering the damage.

I wasn't sure what George's presence meant for our relationship. Sure, this was his bedroom too, and he was obviously more than welcome to use it. Was it my turn to use the couch? Or maybe, and I didn't want to get my hopes up, he was ready to forgive me.

My brain simmered the thought as I slowly removed my Healing robes and placed them in their proper home. I cleaned up George's clothing mess, and then gently tugged at the newspaper crumpled in his hands. My efforts to go unnoticed were fruitless.

"You're home," he said pointedly, his voice crackly from sleep.

"Sorry," I muttered, "Do you want me to go in the living room?"

"What time is it?" George brushed the sleep from his eyes and glanced at the clock. "Merlin, do you ever get a day off?"

A smile flickered on my lips, but it didn't linger. I moved toward the Mirror to let down my hair and change into pajamas. Cedric smiled warmly at me.

George stripped down into his boxers and extinguished the light on his side of the room. I heard him rustling beneath the sheets. The sound made me feel desperately lonely.

"Come to bed," George urged. I swiveled around in my seat, and saw George watching me sadly from his spot. "Please."

"You're not mad at me," I said plainly, surprised.

"Come here," George insisted.

I couldn't argue with that logic. I crawled into bed next to him, but far enough away that he couldn't sock me if he felt the urge.

"Do you love me?" he asked. The room was dark, and his voice through the air above me.

"Absolutely."

The bed moved as George shifted his weight around. He scooted closer to me, and then took my left hand.

"Promise you'll marry me?" The cool metal of the engagement ring was at the tip of my finger. I was so unworthy.

"Yes, of course. But George, I really hurt you—"

George slid the ring on my hand; the gesture said more than his words ever could.

"You did." He kissed my forehead. "You can make it up to me by marrying me."

It didn't make sense; George Weasley didn't make sense.

"Your mind's affected."

George laughed. "Love does that to you." And then he kissed me so hard I felt fireworks in my fingers and toes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please review! Let me know what you think!**


	7. The Real Trouble

**Chapter 6: The Real Trouble**

The real trouble began in late August. Fred, George, Ginny and I were enjoying a relaxing afternoon at the Burrow when Arthur stormed home and tossed the _Daily Prophet _in my lap.

"Have you seen this?" he asked and tore off his jacket.

"No, we don't read this rubbish anymore," I said.

"There's something that concerns you." Arthur pointed to a small article at the bottom of the page. "The Muggle-Born Registration Commission."

"The what?" Fred asked.

"Muggle-Born Registration Commission," Arthur repeated, calmer this time. "A new committee from the Ministry. They interrogate muggle-borns to find out where they got their magic from."

"What?" I scanned the article—it detailed the ins and outs of the interrogation process. "Muggle-borns have their wands stripped of them and are arrested?"

"Sent to Azkaban," Arthur confirmed. "Or if you're lucky, they'll cut off your income and hope you'll go homeless."

"The article says you get a hearing." Ginny was reading over my shoulder.

"That is in no way fair," Arthur reiterated. "Michelle, I'm worried you'll get a letter."

"What happens if she does?" George asked frantically. "Could she ignore it?"

"The Ministry's employed Snatchers to go after people who avoid their hearing," Arthur responded. He took a seat in the big arm chair across from us, and rubbed his forehead. "The way I see it, we have two viable options. First, Michelle goes into hiding at a safe place. We're thinking of contacting Aunt Muriel and protecting it. Nobody would ever think to find her there. Or second, Michelle goes back home to America with her parents and waits out the war here. Snatchers wouldn't even think about trekking the Atlantic for a muggle-born; it wouldn't be worth it to them."

The color drained from George's face. "She couldn't hide with Fred and me at the shop?"

"Too obvious. We'll need to cast some extra protection around your apartment. We don't want you boys getting into harm's way."

But my mind seemed fixated on one point, "I'd have to quit work."

Arthur nodded grimly. "As soon as you get the letter I would. They know you're a Healer and they'll be searching St. Mungo's. It would be best to remove yourself from any situation the Snatchers could easily find you in."

I had worked so hard to be a Trainee Healer, and was so close to being a real Healer. I loathed the idea of giving up all of my hard work to sit on my ass while a war waged around me. But realistically, I knew it was the best way to keep me safe.

"I know," Arthur sympathized, as if he had read my mind. "But it'll be for the best."

Our easygoing afternoon of fun music and chatter had quickly transfigured into reality: the war. I tried to think about my future in London, but my mind disconnected from my brain.

"Think about what would be best for you and let me know," Arthur spoke directly to me. "The Order will arrange for your safety."

I tried to smile gratefully, but I couldn't quite get my mouth to cooperate. "Thank you."

* * *

><p>The Muggle-Born Registration Commission did not appear in conversation again until a week or so later, after Ginny had gone on the train to Hogwarts—a suddenly compulsory move for all witches and wizards. Once the students had boarded the train for school, business in the twins' shop was essentially non-existent. Hermione's name had appeared in the <em>Prophet<em> a few days ago for the Commission, and the fact that my name could soon follow was quickly becoming a reality.

"I don't want you to go to America," George said abruptly one evening. We were lying in bed together, waiting for sleep to greet us. "For incredibly selfish reasons."

"Such as?"

"I don't want you to be that far away from me. At least when you're at Muriel's I know where you are. And I could potentially visit. But if you go to America, who knows when I'd see you again…"

"America might be better only because I'd be farther away." I closed my eyes, and tried to imagine living with my parents for an undetermined amount of time. "I could work as a Healer in America, maybe finish my training."

"I know," George said mournfully. "I know it'd be better for you. I just don't want it to be."

I felt bad for George. Even when he and Fred left school in our seventh year, George later complained that he had been desperately lonely without me—and that was with a definable end time. Who knew how long it would be until the war was over?

"I could go with you," George suggested.

"Fred couldn't stand to be without you," I joked. "What about your business?"

George made a disappointed noise. "We could manage it by owl post. But I suppose you're right… it would be difficult to manage without Fred with me. He could come too?"

My brain concocted several silly images of Fred and George living with my parents and me. Not good.

"We'd be a tight fit," I said vaguely, hoping he'd get the hint.

"We could find somewhere else to live. You speak American, right?" I snickered.

"I've also been thinking about trying to find Kim and Kelly, but that's a long shot," I mentioned.

"I guess." George was not thrilled by the idea.

I rolled on top of my fiancé; his body loosened at my presence.

"Let's not think about it now," I kissed his chin. "Everything will be alright."

George moaned and wrapped his arms around my back. "If you insist," he smiled beneath my kiss.

* * *

><p>Not worrying about the Muggle-Born Registration Commission didn't last long. Not even a week later, I received the letter of summons for a hearing, in addition to a spot in the <em>Prophet<em> calling for my cooperation with the Ministry.

I was home from work that day, and Weasley Wizard Wheeze's was so painfully slow that the twins let Verity and I go early. The letter was already waiting for me on the kitchen counter, sealed in a light purple ribbon—like it was an invitation to a ball, and not my doom.

George and I had not talked about where I should go into hiding after that night we heard about the Commission. I sat frozen at the counter, suddenly challenged with an awful task: would Aunt Muriel's or America be safer for me to live out the duration of the war? The answer was obvious, but I knew George wouldn't like it.

George rapped on the front door before sliding in. He was grinning widely, as usual. He was always in a good mood.

"Got some downtime, figured I'd come up and…" George trailed off, noticing the parchment in my hands. "What's that?"

I handed the letter to him, unable to form words. I watched his eyes dance across the page. His fist crumpled the letter.

"Fuck," he swore. "We'll let Dad know tonight; he'll know what to do."

My body felt hollow, and my heart hammered relentlessly. I was going to have to quit work, pack my things, and move. The rock on my hand felt like it weighed a million pounds.

George noticed my face fall. He cupped my cheek and reassured me, "Don't worry, Muriel's not entirely unbearable. Only mostly. I'll be sure to stop around once a week or so…"

"George," I interjected, "You know I'm not going to Muriel's."

My fiancé didn't respond. He dropped the letter on the counter, and asked, "How come?"

"We both know America will be much safer. I would be with my family, and I could continue working over there and…"

"I wouldn't be there," George muttered.

"I have to think about my safety," I insisted. But it was already too late: George's eyes were crumpled with hurt. "I'm dreading being so far away from you. But you can write me, right? It'll be like the summers we were in school."

George considered this. He exhaled slowly and deeply.

"You're right," he bobbed his head. "Your safety is the most important thing. But bloody hell, Michie, I'll miss you."

I didn't want to think about missing George because the feeling would be unbearable. I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed in his scent. I tried to memorize the way his hands felt on my waist, or how hot his breath was on my neck. That night, I would memorize the curve of his body, the way it felt against mine, and the way he silently sobbed to himself after he thought I had fallen asleep.

"I'll miss you too," I said earnestly. George hiccupped in response.

* * *

><p>Kingsley Shacklebolt had arranged for a Portkey to take me outside my parent's home in America. He warned that I had one shot to make it, so I had better be there on time.<p>

The Portkey was a mangy-looking tennis shoe that had been dropped in the Burrow's front yard. I stood above it, a heavy backpack weighing down my shoulders, surrounded by Kingsley, Fred, George, Arthur, and Molly.

"It's almost time," Kingsley warned, his voice deep and booming.

"Oh, love," Molly said for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. She dabbed her eyes with a kerchief dangling from her hands.

"We'll keep in touch, sis," Fred smirked; he was already worn of goodbyes.

"We'll try to send letters as often as we can, let you know how things are going back here," Arthur added.

"Don't expect much communication though," Kingsley added gravely. "The Ministry spot checks messages, and if they find any incriminating details you'll be in Azkaban faster than you can say Quidditch."

"We'll let you know as soon as it's safe here, anyway," Arthur amended, and Kingsley nodded approvingly.

I faced George, who hadn't worn the same face since we decided I would move to America. We had said our goodbyes privately, but I still didn't feel right leaving him.

"I'll be alright," he said lazily, as if he had read my mind. "Be safe. I'll be thinking about you."

"I love you," I told him.

George smiled. "I love you too."

"It's time," Kingsley urged.

"Go," George said, "I'll see you soon."

I kneeled to the ground, my fingers barely grazing the shoe leather. And then it felt like I was being pushed through a tiny tunnel, suctioned even, spinning so fast I couldn't see straight.

Before I had time to think, I landed on my parent's front lawn.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Was America the right choice? Will Michelle stay put at her parents? Let me know what you think!**


	8. America

**Chapter 7: America**

Being home was nice, at first. My house looked nothing like I remembered it, but my parents insisted that nothing had changed since I had last seen it the summer after my seventh year.

My parents didn't ask a lot of questions, mostly because they knew they wouldn't understand the answers. My mom squealed with excitement when she saw my engagement ring and my dad tutted sadly at the scar on my cheek. My parents had adopted a cat from a local shelter—a small gray tabby they lovingly called Squeaks—and spent the past few years working.

It felt weird not using magic as often as I used to, but I was quickly readapting to muggle life. On one of my first days back in America, I scouted out the nearest magical hospital and asked if there were any open positions or any resources I could use to finish my training. The secretary stared at my sadly and said no, they were all full. But she would let me know when there was an opening.

Boredom quickly ensued. I couldn't hang out with any of my old muggle friends—they were all away at college and had long ago forgotten about me. I didn't want to meet new people for fear of getting too attached to America. Squeaks was a good friends though; she often snuggled against me when I slept, and followed me around the house when my parents were at work. When I got especially bored, I read through Cedric's journal, reliving both good and bad memories.

_December 26__th__. Cho was great! I'm glad everything's working out. But I'm worried I'm rushing things too quickly. Then again, Michelle's taken no time in moving on._

_ January 17__th__. I'm trying so hard not to love her. Cho and I have almost been together for a month, and everything is going really well, but she's not Michelle. This is a good thing. Move on. Move the fuck on._

_ February 24__th__. Fuck. I still love her._

My parents noticed my lethargy and took me on a vacation up and down the east coast to visit relatives I hadn't seen in years. Each aunt, uncle, cousin, and grandparent feigned excitement about my engagement. But then they all needed to remind me how young I was; they didn't understand. And although their gestures of welcoming me into their home, letting me sleep in the spare bedroom, and eat their food were all very kind and generous, I didn't feel like family to them. I was a stranger; and that's how I felt in my homeland.

Some days in America were fun. My dad taught me to drive his car—so whenever I felt stir crazy, I would go for a long drive around the neighborhood. My parents and I would stay up late and talk about my time in London; I made sure to censor the naughty details about George. I even took the time to visit Kelly's family a few streets over.

But most days in America were dull. I didn't feel right being so far away from everyone I loved. I had absolutely no idea if George was alright, let alone alive, and not knowing killed me. Although they had promised to write as often as possible, three months passed without any sort of communication. I was glad that I was safe, but I was not glad to be so disconnected from my world.

After Christmas—also my and George's third year anniversary—I knew something had to give. I couldn't sit around and wait for the war to be over anymore. I wanted to help. I wanted to fight. I wanted to be with my fiancé.

I wanted to move to Muriel's. Fast. But how could I get back without any communication from the Order?

"You got a letter today," my mom handed me an envelope bursting with paper.

I tore open the envelope and saw that the American wizard hospital, Salem State, finally had an opening.

"Only took them three months," I muttered under my breath.

"What's that?" my mom asked. She was nosy, just like me.

"A letter from Salem State announcing their need for a new Healer," I surmised. My mom's interest quickly waned.

"Magic stuff," she reiterated. I nodded. "Right. Well, are you going to do it?"

"I might." I chewed on my cheek, unsure of how to breech my homesickness. "I'm thinking about going back to London."

"Why?" my mom's eyes narrowed. "Isn't it dangerous there?"

"It's a war," I explained, "But I can't stand being away from everyone. It feels cowardly that I'm here and they're over there still."

"Haven't you heard from George at all?"

I shook my head, already exasperated with the conversation. "Nothing in three months. I'm worried sick about everyone and… I miss them."

My mom's eyes got sad. "I don't want you getting hurt over there."

"It's a chance I'm willing to take."

My mom didn't want to let me go. I was her only daughter, in the same way that Cedric was the Diggory's only son.

"Alright," she relented, "Let me know what you're going to do."

* * *

><p>Although I desperately wanted to leave, I had absolutely no idea how to get back to London. If owl post was intercepted by the Ministry, then I couldn't possibly owl the Order. The Floo Network was also heavily monitored by the Ministry. And I had no idea how to create a Portkey. I was already out of ideas.<p>

I thought that if I had nothing else to do around here I should at least work. I was waiting to be interviewed for the position when I heard the woman next to me speak—she had a British accent.

"Excuse me, are you from England?" I asked, sounding like I had never before heard the accent.

"Yes." The woman eyed me strangely. "Why, may I ask?"

"I need to get back to London, but I have no way to get there," I explained vaguely. "How did you travel?"

"Floo," she explained, "This hospital has a connection to St. Mungo's."

I was so excited I could kiss her; but I restrained myself.

"The Ministry doesn't monitor it?" I lowered my voice.

The woman sensed my anxiety. Her voice softened, "Of course they do. Are you muggle-born?"

I joked, "How could you tell?"

She smirked. "Nonsense, our Ministry. Are you from London?"

"For the most part. I was born here, but I attended Hogwarts on a scholarship and I've lived there ever since."

The woman made a thoughtful noise. "How can I help you?"

I asked bashfully, "Do you know Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"He's on the run, isn't he?"

My face fell. "I had no idea. Erm, do you know the Weasleys? Or the Diggorys, even?"

"I treated senior Weasley when he was in St. Mungo's," she smiled, "Arthur, right? Yeah, I think I could get a message to him."

My hands were shaking I was so thrilled. I magicked a scrap of parchment and a quill, and furiously scribbled "I want to come home. Help me. –M". I handed the paper to her, and then hugged the stranger tightly.

"You have no idea how much I appreciate this," I told her.

The woman smiled weakly. "I go back to London tomorrow. I don't know when I'll see him, but I'll do my best."

A short witch in lime green robes emerged from the other. She was carrying a clipboard, a quill hovering above her notes.

"Pearson?" she announced.

I stood too quickly and almost fell over. "Yes, that's me."

"Michelle," the woman said. "You worked upstairs. I thought you looked familiar. The staff has been worried sick about you."

"I've been worried about them," I corrected. "Thank you so much. Again. I won't forget this."

The woman waved. "Not a problem for a Healer in need."

* * *

><p>I got the job at Salem State. My schedule quickly became full again with work, and I was grateful for the distraction. But my mind never strayed far from the possibility of going home very soon.<p>

I wished I had gotten the woman's name so I could have thanked her properly. I wondered how the Weasleys would react when they got my note, and how they would communicate our next move. Would they let me come home or would they insist I stay? The questions drove me crazy.

Two weeks into the New Year I got my answer. An exhausted owl delivered a stained piece of parchment with the verdict, "Find Allie B. She knows."

I assumed Allie B. worked with me at Salem. But I had only been working for two weeks and I hardly knew anyone. Luckily, Allie B. was looking for me, too. She was a young and curvy witch; she carried herself with a thick air of confidence. She accosted me in the hallway after I had finished checking up on a patient who had a memory charm gone wrong.

"Tomorrow, four o'clock, my office," she whispered in passing. "Bring your stuff."

I rushed home that evening to pack all of my things into the backpack that I had brought with me from London. Since living in America, I had accumulated a significant amount of things. At first I stressed about packing all of it away, but then I remembered the shrinking charm.

"You're going, then?" my mom asked after I dropped my bag onto the kitchen floor.

I nodded. "I met someone at work that helped me out. I'll be back in London at four."

My mom's face fell. But she said, "I'm glad for you."

Because of Hogwarts, my parents and I didn't get to spend a lot of time together when I was growing up. I always cherished our summer returns to America, and it definitely was nice staying with them for a little bit now, but I felt like I had grown out of my parents. They needed to stay in America for their safety. I wondered when I would see them next.

"I'll let you know when things are safe," I reassured my mom, but she didn't seem any happier.

"I'll be thinking about you."

I held her tightly. When we broke apart, she was crying.

"I love you," she said, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

I kissed her cheek. "I love you, too. Tell dad goodbye for me. I'll be okay."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Review and let me know what you think!**


	9. Captured

**Chapter 8: Captured**

The portkey this time was a worn-out baseball. Allie B. didn't make conversation with me while I waited for four P.M. to roll around; she shuffled papers at her desk and sighed loudly every few minutes. It was very discomforting, but I reassured myself with the knowledge that soon I would be home.

At exactly four o'clock, I felt the familiar compressed, dizzying sensation. Before I could acknowledge what was happening, I landed.

The portkey had dropped me into a small valley covered in snow. I brushed the debris off of my jeans and stood, trying to discern exactly where I was. And then I saw it, about a mile in the distance: the Burrow. I was so happy I almost cried.

I started speed-walking toward my destination. My landing had been a little rough on my leg, but I motored through the pain. I kept thinking about George and Fred and Arthur and Molly… Ginny should be home on holiday, too. I was going to hug them all, snog George, and eat lots of Molly's food when…

I heard the distinctive pop of apparition behind me and then a teasing male voice.

"Someone should have stayed in America," he sneered.

It was as if his words froze me; I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

"Going somewhere?" the voice taunted.

I ran. I tried to swerve while running to avoid giving the Snatchers an easy target, but the ground was wet and slippery. The Burrow grew larger in my sight, but I wasn't sure how long I could keep sprinting. My lungs ached for air, but if I stopped, I would surely be sent to Azkaban.

"Help!" I hollered pathetically. I didn't know if anyone inside the Burrow could hear me, but I screamed anyway, "Help me!"

My legs were wearing down. I saw flashes of green and red fly past me and hit the ground. I swung my backpack off of my shoulder and tossed it at the side of the Burrow. The bag smacked the side of the house with a large thump.

I used the last ounce of breath in my lungs to bellow, "HELP!"

A gross pain traveled up my spine and knocked me to the ground. My vision was black and I couldn't move, but I could still hear.

A Snatcher's hand touched my face and tutted. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't make any noise.

I heard a door slam and footsteps pound the ground. Heavy breathing and curses exchanged.

"Leave her alone!" George roared. His footsteps stopped a few feet short of where I was laying. Behind him, I heard Arthur and Fred.

"George!" they were calling. But George wouldn't stop yelling, "Get back! Now! All of you!"

"Or what?" a second man taunted.

The two voices collided—first George, and then the second man. _"STUPEFY!" "IMMOBULUS!"_

"George!" Arthur warned. I didn't hear a thud, so I knew my fiancé was still standing.

"Right," the first voice returned. I felt a cool, slimy hand touch my neck, and another wrap beneath my back. The stranger lifted me. "Well then, if that's all, we'll be going…"

George and my captors began screaming a flurry of hexes. Arthur warned his son to stop, they'll hit me. I heard angry panting.

"Bring her back, so she can say goodbye," the second voice leered.

I felt a cooling sensation rush through my body, and I gasped, opening my eyes to a dark sky. My captor dropped me, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around my neck. The force of his grip was pressing into my neck, making it hard to breathe. I struggled against his grasp, but that only made him hold tighter.

"Say goodbye…" The man holding my neck tempted, "You won't be seeing him again."

My eyes blurred with tears. I couldn't speak. My stomach turned on itself. I was going to be sick.

"George…" I managed to croak. The Snatchers viciously laughed.

I could hardly make out George's face. I needed to tell him I loved him.

As I struggled to make sounds, my captor pressed his wand to my throat. I gagged at the force of the protrusion.

"Come any closer and I'll kill her," the man threatened.

George dropped his wand and held up his hands. "Take me," he insisted, his voice frantic with desperation. "Leave her. Take me."

"We don't need you," the second man jeered. "Who would need you?"

"Huh, wait," I heard a third voice, gravelly against my ears. He grabbed my left hand and tore off my ring. "Cute," he sneered. "This yours?"

George was stone-faced, his eyes burning with fury. He bit his lip to stop himself from reacting.

"Ah, she's yours," the first man taunted, "Now she's mine."

The third man threw my ring onto the ground and screamed, _"Reducto!" _I moaned with pain. This made the Snatchers laugh.

"She's pretty," the second captor purred, and brushed his hand against my neck. I rolled my neck towards his touch, to prevent him from finding more personal skin. "Good thing."

"You can have her later," the third man noted, "After me."

I heard George roar again and his footsteps pound towards us. I heard a pop, felt tightness against my navel and in my temple, and we were gone.

* * *

><p>The walls were dark and high. The air felt cool against my skin, and I shivered with force.<p>

The Snatchers threw me in the middle of the floor like someone might throw a piece of paper in a wastebasket. They yelled for the owners of the house. I heard frantic footsteps approach the foyer and then a gasp.

"She's here," the woman's voice was shaky, shocked. When she noticed the three men standing over me, eyeing me like a large steak, her voice snapped, "Leave. Now."

The three men rolled their eyes and disapparated, just like that.

The woman was beautiful. She has stringy blonde hair tied into a ponytail. Her body was covered in velvety black robes. Her eyes were tired and frightened. She looked so familiar…

"You're Malfoy's mother," I said pointedly, angrily. "Why am I here?"

"Never mind," she snapped. "Into the dungeon—now."

Her movements were brisk but edgy, like a storm. She dragged me by my arm over to a set of stone stairs, opened a metal grate, and hurled my body inside.

"You'll stay here," she said bitterly. And shut the gate behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Now what? Please review! (I mean, Story Alerters! I see you! xP)**


	10. The Dungeon

**Chapter Nine: The Dungeon**

The dungeon was cold, dark, and wet. Something watery leaked from the walls, but I wasn't sure what—nor was Luna, Dean, Griphook, and Mr. Ollivander. Pleasant company was a perk to imprisonment, but we had to speak with hushed voices at sporadic times. The Malfoys employed a man they called Peter to keep an eye on the prisoners. He wasn't very bright or brave, but he was an ace snitch. I learned that first hand after he called me out for speaking to Dean and I received the Cruciatus curse.

The Snatchers stripped me of my wand when they captured me and gave it to Narcissa Malfoy to hide. Being without my wand was the worst—it was like an extension to my arm. I felt incomplete without it. And who knows if they had it destroyed. Perhaps this was just a precursor to the real torture: Azkaban.

I quickly lost track of days. We had no sense of night or day; we could take a guess by the sounds we heard upstairs. If there were lots of footsteps crossing the ground, then it must have been day. If we heard the clinking of plates and silverware, it must have been evening. If Peter paced in front of the dungeon door for hours on end, it must have been night.

"I'm not sure why he's doing that," Luna commented, "If all of us rose up together, he couldn't stop us."

"He has a wand though," Dean said solemnly. "It'd be a close match, but he could stop us."

I was grateful for the company. Without my new friends, I would have gone mad with worry. Although I was upset about George, and frustrated with way my return went, I didn't let myself harp on the negatives for too long. George was surely looking for me.

One day, we heard a heavy figure fall to the ground upstairs, followed by some shouting. The lack of adequate food and nutrition was beginning to wear on my body, but I still felt alright most days.

Then we heard her shrill voice pierce the quiet, "Get the healer!"

My hair stood on end. It felt like someone had dipped me into a vat of ice water.

Peter opened the dungeon door and motioned for me to come forward. At first, I didn't move. What would happen if I said no?

He barked, "Come on! Quickly!"

His tone shattered my brief rebellion.

Peter led me up into the Malfoy's main hall, where a Snatcher was lying injured on the ground. He clutched his arm and groaned in pain.

Narcissa Malfoy handed me my wand and commanded, "Heal him."

I slowly crept over to the moaning Snatcher and tried to assess the situation.

I asked, "What happened to him?"

Bellatrix Lestrange strutted into the room, her mouth twisted in a malicious smile. "Why don't you find out?"

Feeling bold, I argued, "I can't heal him if I don't know what's wrong with him. There's no blood and no scars. For all I know, he tripped."

Bellatrix looked murderous. "How dare you talk back to me! Do as you're told, mudblood! Or we'll hand you over to the dementors!"

It felt like she had choked me. I kneeled down and touched my wand to the Snatcher's arm. I administered a simple pain relief spell. He stopped moaning, but still wouldn't move.

"Well!" Bellatrix prompted.

To say I was nervous is an understatement. My voice shook as I admitted, "I don't know. I don't know what to do—"

"_Crucio!" _Pain exploded in my nerves; I bit my hand to keep from screaming. "You useless idiot! Heal him now!"

Shakily, I tried every counter-spell that I could think of to reverse involuntary paralysis. There were quite a few, but everything depended on what spell had been used against the Snatcher. I searched my brain for the counter-spells to dark magic, but my mind was lazy. It had been months since I needed to use one and even longer since I had studied them.

On what seemed like my fiftieth counter-spell, the Snatcher moved. He slowly got to his feet and examined his hands like he had never seen them before.

"What 'appened?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Get out of here, you bumbling fool," Bellatrix growled, and shoved the Snatcher toward the door. "Don't ever let us find you like that again!"

Narcissa snatched my wand and Peter pulled me back to the dungeon.

"Until next time," he taunted, and shut the door.

* * *

><p>After that day, I was regularly summoned to heal.<p>

If I did my work quickly and efficiently, I may get away with a verbal slur from Bellatrix. If I wasn't sure what the counter-spell was, or I took a long time, I would get tortured, beaten, or cut. My arms quickly filled with scars that never healed right. Luna would try to soothe me with a story or a song—Dean, a joke—but my body was deteriorating before my eyes. It was harder to stand up each time Peter summoned me and much harder to focus when I made a mistake. I was hungry, tired, and lonely. Instead of supporting my friends, I started sleeping for long stretches of time. When I slept, or dozed, I thought about George. I missed him so much my chest physically ached. I wanted to read from Cedric's journal to cheer me up but there was no adequate light in the dungeon.

After some undetermined amount of time, we were loud thumping and the sound of struggle. At this point in time, I hardly felt conscious. Everything flickered before my eyes. I barely remembered healing Snatchers or other Malfoy family friends anymore.

The voices from above were familiar. There was screaming and violent movement. These were no ordinary guests.

The dungeon gate slid open and in flew Harry and Ron. When the door had closed, Ron pounded his fists against the grate. They still had Hermione. We could hear her high-pitched, tortured screams from above.

Ron pounded his fists on the gate and hollered back, "Hermione!"

The others in the dungeon soon emerged into the main room and they began discussing what was going on with Harry. Everything seemed to happen like a dream: slow, fluid scenes wherein I wasn't sure what was happening. I blinked, and there was Dobby the house elf, bowing low and offering his services.

Of course I knew Dobby—I had snuck into the kitchens often enough to know several house elves. I didn't expect him to remember me.

When he saw me, the house elf bowed low. "Miss Michelle. What a pleasure it is to see you!"

I was at such a loss for words. My mind could hardly wrap itself around the present situation, let alone form an appropriate response. Part of me remained convinced that I was sleeping.

Harry instructed Dobby to take me, Dean, Luna, Griphook, and Ollivander to Shell Cottage—the home that Bill and Fleur shared. I stood, my limbs weak, and hobbled over to Dobby. My heart was racing in its chambers; I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I worried that I would blink again, and none of this would have happened.

"Hold on," Luna urged, and we had disapparated, gone, just like that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What do you think?**


	11. Shell Cottage

**Chapter Ten: Shell Cottage**

Shell Cottage was on the edge of the sea, isolated and lovely. When my first hit the sand, I screamed in relief—just to hear my voice, to know I was still alive, and most definitely not dreaming.

"You're all right now," Luna said soothingly, grabbing my tattered arm. "We'll be safe here."

I couldn't believe it. Just like that—gone. The salt from the sea stung my nose and eyes, but it was the loveliest sensation I had ever felt. I could have stood out on the shore for days, weeks, months even. The wind rustled my ratty, knotted blonde waves and burned my arms. It was beautiful, and I was alive.

But when Dobby returned with Harry, Ron and Hermione, he had a large knife protruding from his chest. The sudden sight of death made me stumble over myself, and I fell into the sand. Dean rushed over and helped me up.

Harry looked at me pleadingly, "Is there anything you can do?"

Somberly, I shook my head. Harry turned to beg Hermione, but she too remained stone-faced. Harry broke out in a wild sob.

Once Dobby was buried and we said a few words—my thoughts rested fondly on late night snacks with George, which made my heart twist in agony—Bill and Fleur ushered us inside.

Fleur worked overtime to make sure everyone was settled. Everyone claimed different portions of the house. Since I was still very weak, Bill helped me over to the couch in the living room. The cushions were soft and inviting. I was grateful for kindness.

"How can I get to George?" I asked Bill.

Bill frowned. "It might take a few days. We'll have to arrange a portkey…"

My stomach twisted at the word. But I persisted, "Aren't they at the Burrow?"

He shook his head. "No. They had to relocate to Aunt Muriel's. Ginny's there, too. It hasn't been good out there…"

I wondered how Kelly and Kim were surviving. The thought made me feel empty.

"Can't I just apparate?" I pleaded, desperate.

"No," Bill said with finality. He softened, "It'll be alright. You're safe here, and you'll be safe there. But you're very weak—you're skin and bones. I promise I'll make the arrangements for you to move as soon as you get better."

My eyes burned with tears. I raised my hand to wipe them away, but caught sight of my hand first. Bill was right: my skin looked like a thin layer of tape.

"I miss him," I said softly.

Bill didn't react right away. He seemed to be struggling with words. "George hasn't been… right lately."

"Neither have I."

We let this thought sit with us for a few minutes. I heard Fleur's quick footsteps above me, arranging the spare bedrooms for the influx of guests. There was hushed chatter in the hallway, in the living room, upstairs.

"Get some rest," Bill insisted. He summoned a thick blanket from another room and covered me with it. "We'll wake you when dinner's ready."

I smiled gratefully, but the motion hurt my jaw.

* * *

><p>Shell Cottage was a lovely home. But it wasn't my home, and being so close—yet so far away—from George made me antsy and anxious. I was also shocked at how long I had actually spent in the Malfoy's dungeon. When I last looked at the calendar in America, it was early January; now it was very late March, almost April. That was three months of my life that I will never get back.<p>

Bill arranged for Lupin to bring me to Aunt Muriel's almost a week after we had arrived. We would be traveling by portkey at night.

When it was time to say goodbye, my stomach was full and I could walk across a room by myself without getting winded. The first time I saw myself in a mirror since my time in America, I sobbed. My cheeks were hollow and my body was thin—bones stuck out beneath my skin. My skin was grey from lack of light and nutrition and my hair was at least half a foot longer. Most notable were the scars that ran up and down my arms; the one that named me mudblood rose against the rest of my skin.

Fleur of all people reassured me that with time, I would both look and feel much better.

"We were worried you wouldn't make it the first night," Fleur admitted, her accent thick with fear. "You don't realize how close to death you were. You and poor Mr. Ollivander…"

Mr. Ollivander had been in Malfoy Manor much longer than I had. Thinking about the torture he must have endured made me sick.

Lupin and I arrived at Aunt Muriel's without incidence. I jumped every time I heard the wind rustle the house or tickle the grass. Lupin warned me to be careful.

Lupin knocked on the back door. Arthur promptly answered, "Who is it? Identify yourself."

"Remus Lupin, part werewolf and husband of Nympadora. You cooked me a rare steak and garlic mashed potatoes for dinner the last time we met." Lupin smirked at the memory and then lowered his voice. "I have a guest. Michelle Pearson, Trainee Healer at St. Mungo's and fiancé of George Weasley."

I heard Arthur make a confused sound. There was the sound of movement. Arthur unlatched the main door and welcomed us in. Aunt Muriel's house was warm and it smelled like raw fish and cat urine. But none of that mattered. I had to blink twice in order to verify that the Weasley family was staring back at me, mouths gaping.

Molly rushed over to me, bawling. "Oh sweetheart. You're alive!"

Ginny wrapped her arms around me, and soon I was covered in Weasleys. "I'm so glad. Wait until George sees…"

Fred emerged from their room first. He looked up, saw me, and then looked down. When he registered who I was, he stopped mid-step and uttered, "Merlin's beard." I didn't react. I was paralyzed with excitement. "George! George, come here! Now!"

Nobody stirred in the other room. Fred urged again, followed by Ginny, Molly, and Arthur, "George! You need to get out here! Now!"

George stepped out of his dark bedroom, his limbs moving slowly. His face was thinner and etched with worry. He looked absolutely miserable.

But when he looked up, and we made eye contact, the color rushed back to his face. George's face screwed up, and he ran over to me, nearly tripping over all of the furniture, and squeezed me so tightly against his chest that I thought my organs might explode.

And there we stood, in the middle of old Aunt Muriel's living room, bawling into each other. He still smelled like Honeydukes, his heart still beat rhythmically, and he still held my back in the same spot.

When we pulled apart, finally, I noticed how tired George looked. I reached up, to wipe the tears from his eyes and tell him it's okay, when he noticed my arm.

"What happened?" he gaped.

"Oh, she doesn't want to talk about that," Molly inserted herself between us, laughing awkwardly. "Are you hungry? You look so thin. We can make room if you need a nap…"

I rubbed my eyes, and suddenly noticed how tired I was. "I am very tired, actually…"

"You can lie down in my bed," George offered. Before Molly could protest, he dragged me into his bedroom and helped me into bed.

"You can wear my clothes if you need pajamas. We have your bag somewhere around here. Do you need another blanket, or-" I kissed George, my body igniting. But he did not return the gesture. When I pulled apart, I fell back against his pillow.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice soft.

George looked unsure of how to respond. Cautiously, he got up and closed his bedroom door. I could only imagine the fit Molly was throwing in the living room.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't save you," his voice was desperate, thin. George gingerly touched my arm, and muttered, "It's my fault."

"No," I said sternly, and my tone surprised him. "There was nothing you could have done."

"I thought you had died."

The finality of the word made my lungs feel empty.

Softly, I spoke, "I'm alive."

"I should have tried harder to find you."

"You didn't know where to look."

"I should have run away from here."

"Your family would have suffered."

"You are the most important thing in the world to me, and I just… let you go," his voice cracked, and I watched tears slide down his face.

"There was nothing you could have done," I repeated.

George was silent. His shame consumed him, and his limbs soon felt cold and clammy.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"I love you, more than anything."

George leaned forward and kissed me.

I smiled. "I love you too."

I wasn't sure how long we sat and talked. I knew my body felt desperate for sleep, but I needed to tell him everything.

"You should tell your mom I saw Harry, Ron and Hermione," I mentioned, feeling my body slip away. "They're alright."

George stroked my wrist, and stood to tell his mom the good news. Sometime between his departure and return, I drifted away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Getting reviews makes me happy. You should review and make me happy. :)**


	12. Muriel's

**Chapter Twelve: Muriel's**

Staying at Aunt Muriel's quickly became confining. George's protectiveness was reassuring at first, but it soon became a little suffocating. This combined with the endless questions from four other family members (and insults sprinkled in by Muriel herself), I was eager to seek alone time. Ollivander arrived shortly after I did, adding another body to a small space. Bill would stop by every now and then to check on things; Lupin, to announce the birth of his son.

Strangely, Molly had allowed for me to remain in Fred and George's room. As a guest at the Burrow, I always slept with Ginny (and Hermione, when she was around). I didn't blame her paranoid fantasies (because all of them were realized at Hogwarts). And so it was odd when Molly didn't protest when every night George escorted me to bed. Sex was hardly on the forefront of our minds. It was enough to have his hot breath against the back of my neck, his body curving against mine. And even if we wanted to, there were simply too many people around—too many ears listening.

Arthur and Molly were gracious hosts. I had eventually divulged the rest of the Weasleys my story; Molly was sobbing by the end of it. Arthur expressed deep regret for the night the Snatchers caught me.

"We should have tried fighting harder," he said somberly. His tone reminded me too much of his son, my fiancé, and I wondered if George had drilled this thought into his brain. "But I didn't want to hurt you; I didn't know what they were planning."

"It's okay," I said honestly. My shoulders felt relaxed for the first time in months, the two ton weight replaced by a sense of security and hope. "You did your best."

Arthur nodded, sipping his tea. The room fell quiet, and I relished the silence. Finally, Arthur spoke, "George took it very hard. You mean a great deal to him."

My cheeks burned. "I think I'm lucky."

"I think he's lucky," Arthur winked.

"Who is?" George planted himself next to me.

Arthur said nothing. He stood and walked out of the room, leaving George and me alone.

"Fred and I just got done filling backorders," George sighed. "You'd think a war would slow business; if anything, it's picked up."

I beamed, and reached for his hand. George's skin felt smoother than mine, and the sudden contrast sent shivers down my spine.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice wild with concern.

I nodded, and rested my head on his shoulder. "I missed you."

George didn't respond right away. He seemed to be calculating his words. "I… don't think miss is a strong enough word."

"I know." I curled up against my fiancé, allowing the contours of my body to meld flawlessly against his.

George pressed his lips against my forehead. My heart fluttered.

"I've been meaning to ask you, but I didn't want to upset you," George began, "What made you want to leave America? You were safe there."

My answer seemed so pathetic, considering all that I endured.

"I was bored," I admitted bashfully. "I couldn't stand being away from you, either. I hated not knowing what was happening over here. The way I figured it, I would rather be with you and your family and in harm's way, then safe and out of the loop in America."

"I was worried when we got the letter saying you wanted to come back." George teased me, "We all wondered what on earth was so bad in America that you needed to be in war-riddled England. And now we know: boredom."

My face reddened. "A better idea in theory than in practice. What happened when I was away?"

"We stayed out of the way. We're pure-blood, so they didn't have many grievances with us." George sighed. "We started Potter Watch. Did you hear it in America?"

"I didn't know to listen for it," I quipped.

George grinned. "You're missing out. We report the real news, give a list of the missing, and talk about ways to stay safe and support Harry."

"Sounds brilliant."

"I wasn't there the day Fred and Remus read your name on the list," George grimaced. "I couldn't bear to hear it."

I squeezed his hand. George reciprocated.

"I kept thinking about all the stupid shit that happened between us, and how I wished I could take it all back," he continued, "I'm not sure why I got so angry about Diggory. I could have spent that week with you, instead of furious at you."

"Your anger was justified," I reassured him.

"Our time together is so precious, so short. Being angry when I could be having a laugh with you isn't right," George surmised.

"Philosopher," I jibed.

George beamed and kissed me on the cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The Battle is coming next...**** Sorry about the absence of updates! My laptop and phone died within a few days of each other and I completely forgot about. I suck.  
><strong>


	13. Preparations

**Chapter Twelve: Preparations**

May 2nd arrived without incidence. After a few weeks at Aunt Muriel's, I had regained color and fullness in my face and strength in my limbs. Fred, George, Ginny, and I spent all of our time together between meals; I helped the boys with their orders for the store, and they helped keep me laughing. It was a good trade.

It was right after a late dinner. Fred, George and I were assembled in the living room, reminiscing about our many drunken nights in the Gryffindor common room. Ginny suddenly darted out from her bedroom, wielding a familiar gold coin.

"Harry's at Hogwarts," she exclaimed breathlessly. "They're going to fight."

Fred was the first to spring from his seat. "Brilliant! Let me get my shoes."

George and I exchanged knowing glances. We quickly followed after Fred to fetch our shoes and wands. I tied my hair up with Cedric's journal/hair tie, glad that he would be able to join the battle in spirit. We were falling over each other, trying to get everything ready, when George suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong, mate?" Fred asked.

"Michelle," he breathed. George turned to face me. "How are you feeling?"

"What?" I choked on a laugh. "I feel fine."

"Are you sure?" George looked terrified. "It's only been three weeks. I don't want you getting hurt because you're still feeling weak."

I shook my head. "I'll be okay. Come on, let's go!"

George didn't look convinced and a small part of me wasn't either. What if something happened? But Ginny and Fred were convinced.

"Where do we go?" Fred asked eagerly.

"Hold my hand," Ginny instructed.

We all held hands, closed our eyes and apparated into the Hog's Head.

* * *

><p>"Aberforth's getting a bit annoyed," Fred announced, "He wants a kip, and his bar's turned into a railway station."<p>

Most of Dumbledore's Army was assembled in the Room of Requirement, looking a mixture of eager, terrified, and anxious. I scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing in the center of the room, thin with stress.

"So what's the plan, Harry?" George prompted.

"There isn't one," Harry answered indignantly.

"Just going to make it up as we go along, are we?" Fred joked, "My favorite kind."

Harry rounded on Neville, "You've got to stop this! What did you call them all back for? This is insane—"

"Please," I interrupted, my tongue acid, "You think I got _this_," I pulled up my left sleeve, revealing a long row of scars against the reddened word mudblood. I noticed Hermione gasp and touch the same spot on her arm. "For shits and giggles? We've sacrificed just as much as you have. It's not just personal for you anymore; it's personal for all of us."

George's hand tightened against my waist. Harry's face was pale. Hermione touched his arm, and he, Ron, and Hermione turned to discuss a plan.

"Bloody hell, sis," Fred whistled, "Way to step it up."

George's jaw tightened. "She's right, though."

"I know. I'm impressed," Fred winked. I rolled my eyes.

"Okay!" Harry yelled. The room quieted, eager to hear what Harry had to say. "There's something we need to find. Something… something that'll help us overthrow You-Know-Who. It's here at Hogwarts, but we don't know where. It might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Has anyone heard of an object like that? Has anyone come across something with her eagle on it, for instance?"

I wracked my brain for possible clues, but I was coming up blank.

Luna beat the rest of the Ravenclaws to the punch, "Well, there's her lost diadem. I told you about it, remember, Harry? The lost diadem of Ravenclaw? Daddy's trying to duplicate it."

A snarky Ravenclaw countered, "Yeah, but the lost diadem is lost, Luna. That's sort of the point."

"When was it lost?" Harry asked.

"Centuries ago," Cho Chang answered. I hadn't even noticed she was in the room; she looked well. "Professor Flitwick says the diadem vanished with Ravenclaw herself. People have looked, but nobody's ever found a trace of it, have they?"

"Sorry, but what is a diadem?" Ron asked.

"It's a kind of crown," a red-headed Ravenclaw explained, "Ravenclaw's was supposed to have magical properties, enhance the wisdom of the wearer."

Luna began, "Yes, Daddy's Wrackspurt siphon—"

"And none of you have ever seen anything that looks like it?" Harry cut her off.

Cho, Luna, and I shook our heads. Harry looked desperate.

"If you'd like to see what the diadem's supposed to look like, I could take you up to our common room and show you, Harry. Ravenclaw's wearing it in her statue," Cho suggested.

Ginny shook her head. "No. Luna will take Harry, won't you, Luna?"

Luna joyfully agreed, and the duo quickly left the room.

"This is anticlimactic," Fred spat, causing several people around him to laugh.

Every person in the room exchanged another in conversation, leaving the air humming with positivity. Occasionally, more people—families, Order members, and alumni—would spill in from the Hog's Head. George's hand tightly held my waist. Despite the impending danger, I felt as safe as ever.

And then I heard a familiar voice, "Stop pushing! I'm going as fast as I can!"

Kelly stepped out of the passageway, followed closely by Kim.

I screamed and attacked the two girls. We held each other so tightly I thought my organs might rupture. My heart hummed with excitement and my eyes burned with happiness.

I had a million things I wanted to tell them and ask them. Kelly was beaming at our reunion, her face dotted with tears. She didn't look changed, and my heart sighed at the familiarity. Kim, on the other hand, had grown out her hair. Her face looked leaner and her eyes smiled wider.

We all spoke at the same time, "Oh my gosh how are you what have you been doing how is work how is life how is everything?"

"Merlin!" Fred teased, and hugged Kelly from behind. "You girls are so loud!"

Kelly's face reddened. "Nice to know you haven't changed, Fred."

"Only for you, sweetheart."

"Please, don't flatter yourself."

"You're so thin," Kim remarked, grabbing my arms. "What happened to you?"

"George and I got into a fight," I joked.

My friends laughed. "Unless you're serious, of course," Kelly glared at my fiancé.

"No, no. There is so much I need to tell you," I gushed. "I should probably start here: I'm engaged!"

Kelly and Kim squealed, causing Fred to mock their high pitched reactions.

"No ring? Cheap ass," Kelly scoffed at George.

My fiancé explained, "It was part of our fight. It was a forced engagement."

"Well, as long as _you're_ happy," Kim reasoned, and we laughed again.

I explained the reason for my missing ring, including my imprisonment at Malfoy Manor. Kelly and Kim's faces grew drained as my story progressed, obviously disturbed by the torture I endured.

"Jesus, I'm glad you're alive," Kelly escaped Fred's grasp and hugged me. "We were worried about you. We heard your name on the list of the missing on Potter Watch." She grimaced at the memory. "I fled from the Ministry. I've been hiding out in Switzerland with Kim. It's been alright. There's not much trouble out there yet."

"Sweden," Kim corrected, and Kelly rolled her eyes.

Just as I was about to ask Kelly what happened at the Ministry, Harry returned.

"Harry, what's happening?" Lupin asked anxiously.

"Voldemort's on his way. They're barricading the school. Snape's run for it. What are you doing here? How did you know?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"We sent messages to the rest of Dumbledore's Army." Fred wielded the gold coin. "You couldn't expect everyone to miss the fun, Harry, and the DA let the Order of the Phoenix know, and it all kind of snowballed."

"What first, Harry?" George asked eagerly. "What's going on?"

"They're evacuating the younger kids," Harry explained, "And everyone's meeting in the Great Hall to get organized… We're fighting."

The room exploded in celebratory noise. We began making our way toward the exit when we heard Molly yell at Ginny, "No! You're not going!"

Ginny was struggling from her mother's grip, but Molly was too strong.

Molly insisted, "You're underage! I won't permit it! The boys, yes, but you, you've got to go home!"

"I won't!" Ginny shouted, "I'm in Dumbledore's Army!"

"A teenager's gang!"

"A teenager's gang that's about to take him on." Fred argued for his sister, "Which no one else has dared to do!"

"She's sixteen! She's not old enough! What were you thinking, bringing her with you?" Molly rounded on Fred and George. Although she was not yelling at me, I felt just as guilty.

"Mum's right, Ginny," Bill said sadly, "You can't do this. Everyone underage will have to leave. It's only right."

"I can't go home!" Ginny wailed. "My whole family's here! I can't stand waiting there alone and not knowing and—" She begged Harry with her eyes, but he shook his head.

"Fine," Ginny muttered crassly, "I'll say goodbye now, then, and—"

Suddenly, a red-haired mass fell out of the tunnel. He quickly picked himself up, not bothering to straighten his glasses, and said frantically, "Am I too late? Has it started? I only just found out, so I… I…"

Percy Weasley. I had never actually met Percy before; I only knew that he was a Ministry-loving, family-betraying sack of shit, as Fred lightly put it. The Weasley family stared at their son like they were seeing a ghost. I glanced at Kelly and Kim, who were busying themselves with their hands.

Eager to break the awkward tension, Fleur asked Lupin, "So, how is little Teddy?"

"I…" Lupin stammered, taken aback, "Oh yes, he's fine. Yes, Tonks is with him at her mother's. Here, I've got a picture." Lupin pulled a photo from his wallet.

"I was a fool!" Percy wallowed. "I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a… a—"

"Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron," Fred finished for his brother.

"Yes," Percy agreed, "I was!"

"Well, you can't say fairer than that." Fred reached to shake his brother's hand.

Molly and the others moved in on Percy. I stayed back with Kelly and Kim.

"What made you see sense, Perce?" George asked.

"It's been coming on for a while," Percy explained, "But I had to find a way out and it's not so easy at the Ministry, they're imprisoning traitors all the time. I managed to make contact with Aberforth and he tipped me off ten minutes ago that Hogwarts was going to make a fight of it, so here I am."

"Well, we do look to our prefects to take a lead at times such as these! Now let's get upstairs and fight or all the good Death Eaters'll be taken." George winked at me. I rolled my eyes.

I let the Weasley family walk ahead of me. Kim, Kelly and I walked behind them. It was definitely getting late, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins made me feel alive.

"Jesus, there are a lot of people here," Kelly whistled. The Great Hall was teeming with people—some leaving, most arriving. Kelly, Kim, and I ambled over to where the Order was gathered.

"This is really it," Kim repeated, a little stunned. "I'm fucking ready."

"We'll fight together?" Kelly asked. She grabbed my and Kim's hands, and held them together in her lap.

"You're my sisters," I promised, "I wouldn't want to protect anyone else."

"Not even George?" Kim laughed, skeptical.

I shook my head, and then corrected myself, "You're my soul mates."

Kelly and Kim flailed their hands, and we held onto each other—warm, and shaking.

McGonagall was ushering the underage students out of the Great Hall when a cold, high voice pierced through the walls. The voice nestled in my brain, and I clamped my hands over my ears to prevent it from digging deeper.

Voldemort hissed, "I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and you shall not be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded… You have until midnight."

A girl from the Slytherin table stood up and frantically pointed at Harry. "But he's there! Potter's there! Someone grab him!"

Students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff moved forward to shield Harry. The Slytherin girl sat back down.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," McGonagall said acidly, "You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow."

As the student evacuation resumed, a plan was concocted: all members of the Order were paired with each other and ordered to guard certain areas of the castle. Fred and George were ordered to guard the secret passageways. Kelly, Kim, and I would guard the hallways down by the Hufflepuff common room and kitchens. Once the orders were finalized, everyone scattered. Kelly, Kim, and I were about to leave the Great Hall when George stopped me.

"You'll be alright?" George pressed his hands to either side of my face. His touch was cool against my warm cheeks. His face was a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

I pulled his face towards mine and kissed him. My lips were warm against his and suddenly I felt my lungs shaking. Nausea crashed in waves against my stomach but I had to stay strong.

"I can't promise anything," I told him honestly. George's face fell at this admittance. "But I am in good hands."

George glanced over to Kelly and Kim, who were waiting patiently by the nearest staircase. When they noticed George's stare, they waved excitedly.

"I love you, so much," I told my fiancé. My eyes stung with tears, but I willed them away. "No matter what happens."

"No matter what," he repeated and kissed me again. "I love you."

The castle roared to life—screams, shouts, curses. There was the sound of armor clanking across the hallways, pots dropping to the ground, and violent spells erupting behind us. The hair on my arm stood straight. George kissed me one last time and ran into the castle with Fred.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There you go! A nice long chapter to make up for my long absence! FYI, I normally hate taking text from the book word for word like that, but some of these scenes are too important not to. Oh well! **


	14. The Battle

**Chapter Thirteen: The Battle**

Healing for Death Eaters had given me an unexpected advantage: I knew how to counter all of the curses they were using. I stayed to the front of our threesome, aggressively attacking and deflecting any challengers.

At first, it was a slow trickle of Death Eaters that wandered into our trap. But then the numbers grew larger, and it quickly became overwhelming. We were helped my several older Hufflepuff students who decided to stay back and fight.

There was no time for error; no time to second-guess; no time to breathe—this was war.

Green and red sparks flew everywhere, lighting up the darkened hallways. Walls around us came crashing down. A giant wandered down the hallway opposite ours, flailing his arms and gasping a terrifying roar. We heard screams from everywhere. Professor Sprout, standing above us, dropped potted mandrakes to the ground. When the pots smashed the creatures emitted a terrible squeal that drove away a crowd of Death Eaters, but also drove away our fighters. My ears rang so loudly it was almost impossible to focus. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to avoid the sound.

"Michelle!" Kelly screeched.

I saw a flash of red light and then black. I came-to quickly. Kim was dueling the Death Eater that had cast the curse. Kelly rushed to my side and helped me up.

"Are you okay?" she asked frantically. "Fuck, you're not. Hold on, let me help you."

The pain hit me all at once. My head pounded, a hot, thick liquid oozed from my temple. When Kelly tried to help me put weight on my legs, my ankle burned and I fell over.

"Broken," Kelly grimaced. She touched the non-bloody part of my face and promised, "You'll be alright."

The battle resumed. Hogwarts was looking less and less like the school I had attended for seven years and more and more like something out of a gory action film. Bodies littered the ground like decorations. Rubble collapsed in massive piles on the ground; the walls around us crumbled like dirt.

It was even harder to focus on fighting. My vision blurred and the world around me spun. I tried to remember the spell to heal wounds, but my mind couldn't think that far. Shield, counter, dodge. I was like a machine. The battle was never-ending.

And then a familiar cold, high voice rang through the walls and into our ears. Kelly and Kim clamped their hands over their ears. I cringed.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

And just like that, the Death Eaters disapparated.

"Kim, help me," Kelly urged. My friends supported either side of my body and helped me walk.

"We'll get you help, love," Kim cooed, her voice anxious. "Madam Pomfrey's got to have something."

"I need… potion," I muttered incoherently. In my mind, I had remembered that I needed a potion for a wound this large, in addition to a potion to mend my ankle.

"We'll get it for you, don't worry," Kelly reassured me.

Students were scattered everywhere. Some were helping move the injured, others, the dead. I couldn't wait to sit down and get some help. My breathing got heavy, and I felt like I was going to pass out.

The walk to the Great Hall seemed like it took centuries. Finally, Kelly and Kim placed me down onto a bench next to the other injured. Kelly rifled through Madam Pomfrey's healing kit, frantically looking for something to help me.

"Excuse me, Miss Garland." Madam Pomfrey swooped over me. I heard her clink a few bottles in her bag, followed by the sound of liquid pouring into a glass. Madam Pomfrey handed me the glass, "Drink up, Miss Pearson. You know as well as I do that it will sting."

I drank the mixture in one gulp. The pain in both my temple and ankle immediately subsided.

"Bloody hell," Kim tried to brush strands of hair out of my face, but some were matted from blood. "It stopped bleeding."

Madam Pomfrey handed me another glass. "For your ankle," she instructed, "Don't stand on it right away."

The liquid tasted like dirty water. I felt my bone snap back into place in my ankle; my ankle burned.

"Thank you," I said graciously.

Madam Pomfrey said, "It's nothing. I could use your help, though, Miss Pearson."

I was about to oblige when Kelly cut me off.

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, and pointed toward the end of the hall.

My eyes followed her finger. I saw the Weasley family collected around a single body, sobbing and consoling each other. My heart panicked as I tried to identify the body.

"Fred," Kim said sadly.

I launched myself out of my seat and bolted to the end of the hall, limping on my bad ankle. Kelly and Kim's footsteps were close behind me.

George's face was screwed up, sobs heaving from his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him cry into my neck. George held me so tightly I thought my ribs might crack. My heart raced. I wanted to cry with my fiancé, but I couldn't. I tried to remember the last thing I said to Fred, but I couldn't remember. I kicked myself for not properly saying goodbye.

I hiccupped on a sob. George held me tighter.

When we separated, I turned and saw Lupin and Tonks laying still. I thought of poor Teddy. I ignored the persistent sadness in my throat. I felt completely emotionally drained.

"Your head," George gasped. He too tried to brush the hair from my scalp, but couldn't. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. George pressed his hands against my head and kissed my forehead.

And then Voldemort's voice wriggled into our brains again, for the third time that night, "Harry Potter is dead."

There was a collective gasp around the Great Hall. George pulled me closer as if to protect me. My chest ached. I couldn't believe Harry was dead—and Fred, and Tonks, and Lupin…

"He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together. Come."

At first, nobody moved. We were all frozen by the same sense of fear and shock. McGonagall hurried forward through the crowd and ran through the Great Hall's double doors. The rest of us followed quickly, hopeful to see that Voldemort was lying.

McGonagall made a horrible, defeated sound, "No!"

The crowd pushed onto the front steps of the school and into the courtyard. And there I saw Harry lying limp in Hagrid's huge arms. Death Eaters flanked behind Hagrid, smiling viciously. Voldemort stood front and center, a massive snake at his side.

It was the same as when Cedric died: the echoes and whispers confirming Harry's death. I squeezed my eyes shut, and suddenly I was a sixth year again, seeing Cedric's blank eyes gaze at the sky.

"Silence!" Voldemort boomed. His wand emitted a blinding light and a deafening bang. The crowd fell silent. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

Hagrid stumbled forward, and lowered Harry's body onto the ground.

"You see? Harry Potter is dead!" Voldemort taunted, "Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

I didn't believe it; Voldemort was lying. I squeezed George's hand for some sense of security, but George was gazing in fury and awe at the spectacle in front of us.

Ron suddenly yelled, "He beat you!"

The crowd screamed again. My throat was raw from anger; I could hear Kelly and Kim raging beside me. George moved his grip from my hand to my waist, and pulled me closer to him. Then the same trick from Voldemort's wand silenced us again.

"Harry was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," Voldemort elaborated. "Killed while trying to save himself—"

Neville suddenly ran forward, brandishing his wand. Voldemort lazily flicked his wand, and Neville flew backwards, disarmed.

"And who is this?" Voldemort asked, laughing. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix emerged from the Death Eaters, wearing a familiar smug smile. "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember… But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"

"So what if I am?" Neville countered.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom," Voldemort tempted.

Neville shouted, "I'll join you when hell freezes over! Dumbledore's Army!"

The crowd erupted in agreement.

Voldemort was not pleased, "Very well. If that is your choice, Longbottom. We revert to the original plan. On your head… be it."

The Sorting Hat came crashing through the castle windows and into Voldemort's hand.

"There will be no more sorting at Hogwarts School," he announced, "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

Voldemort place the Sorting Hat on Neville's head.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me."

The Sorting Hat burst into flames and consumed Neville's head. Neville screamed in pain. The crowd was frozen with terror.

The display was interrupted by a massive war cry, and the incoming wave of fighters stormed castle grounds.

A giant stumbled onto castle grounds and cried, "HAGGER?"

The battle began again. George grabbed my wrist and dragged me with me, separating me from Kim and Kelly. I called after my friends, but they had already disappeared into the crowd of screaming, scattering people. Lights darted across the grounds; one narrowly missed my face. I yelled for George to slow down, but my fiancé was determined.

When we reached a block, George wheeled around and shot curses at the Death Eaters left and right. I joined his efforts, but two against many was not enough. It was my turn to lead; I yanked George toward the Great Hall again, careful to avoid the giant spiders crawling around the grounds and the centaurs galloping by.

"Michelle!" George called behind me.

I had no time to stop. I saw a Death Eater emerge from around a corner and shot a curse at him. He fell over, unconscious.

"What is it?"

"You're limping!" George gaped.

I smirked, even though my fiancé couldn't see it. "I can walk," I reassured him, "Let's move."

George hurried behind me and covered my body with his arm. We sprinted into the Great Hall together, where the battle was already raging.

We heard Molly scream from the far side of the Great Hall, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

George and I ran over to the action. Molly had pushed Hermione, Ginny, and Luna out of her way.

"OUT OF MY WAY!" Molly bellowed. She shot a curse at Bellatrix, and the two began to duel.

George and I moved forward to help her, but Molly insisted, "No! Get back! Get back! She. Is. Mine!"

The rest of the Great Hall ceased battle to watch the duel. I had seen Molly angry before, but never quite like this. This would have been the perfect time for Fred to reassure me that this was nothing compared to when he almost got Ron to make an Unbreakable Vow as a child, but then I remembered.

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" Bellatrix taunted Molly, "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

My blood was absolutely boiling. George squeezed my hand so tightly I thought it might break.

"You. Will. Never. Touch. Our. Children. Again!" Molly hollered.

Bellatrix laughed maliciously at the same Molly's curse hit her in the chest. Bellatrix's eyes widened as if she knew what had happened, and then she fell dead.

Voldemort exploded an ear-shattering yell, and turned his wand on Molly. George, the rest of the Weasleys, and I stood behind her, ready to fight. And then something amazing happened.

Harry slipped out from beneath his invisibility clock and hollered, "Protego!" effectively shielding Molly from harm.

Something strange happens when you witness history. My heart pounded in my ears as I, along with hundreds of others, watched Harry and Voldemort circle each other. Harry revealed the truth about the shield, Severus Snape, and the Deathly Hallows. I kept watching George's reactions to the new developments, but he seemed so far away.

Finally, Harry gave Voldemort a chance at remorse. When he declined, the two dueled. And Harry prevailed.

Voldemort was dead.

At first there was silence as we realized what we had just witnessed. And then the Hall erupted in celebration. Despite everything we were feeling, I jumped with and hugged each of the Weasleys, Kelly and Kim, and several other excited students I didn't know. Peeves floated above our heads, singing a silly song. Rumors were already flying that the muggle-borns were being released from Azkaban, and that Kingsley Shacklebolt was the new Minister of Magic.

Once our new reality had settled in, I followed George to a remote corner of the Great Hall. He leaned against the wall and exhaled deeply.

"Are you alright?" I asked, concerned. It was a stupid question to ask considering the tremendous loss he suffered, but it seemed right.

George shook his head, but a small smile was on his lips. "No," he muttered.

I wrapped my arms around my fiancé's waist. George reciprocated.

"Fred wanted to be the best man, you know," he told me matter-of-factly.

"Fred would have put itching powder in your underwear and laughed hysterically while you resisted the urge to scratch at your man bits."

George laughed. "Probably."

The sun had finally risen on a new day. The Great Hall was quickly emptying of people. We noticed Arthur and Molly speaking solemnly with Bill and Fleur. My eyes wandered to the row of dead on the other side of the Hall; if only they had lived to see the end. I imagined Cedric watching with the newly dead, reassuring them that the afterlife wasn't all bad.

George and I stood holding each other for what seemed like hours. I liked hearing his steady heart beat beneath his shirt.

Kelly and Kim came to say goodbye, an hour after the battle had ended.

"We'll be in London with my parents," Kim explained. "Come see us."

"Definitely," I promised. I held each girl twice. When I let go, I kissed their cheeks.

"I'll be making a trip to America, too," Kelly told me, "You should come. You too, George."

I thought of my parents, and how thrilled my mother would be to hear that everything was finally over.

"I'll see you very soon," I smiled and then hugged my friends again. "Take care."

"Bye," Kelly and Kim waved goodbye.

Arthur was next. His eyes were red, but he seemed composed otherwise.

"We're getting ready to go home. You should probably say goodbye here… Kingsley said he's arranging to have a funeral here, but we'll need to move the body soon."

George stiffened beneath my touch. I told Arthur, "Yes, of course. We'll meet you in a minute."

As soon as his father was out of earshot, George said frantically, "I don't want to see him."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't," George said curtly. I gave him a moment to calm down. "It's not him. Fred's not… there. I just… I don't want to."

"Alright." I rubbed his back. "You don't have to. But I'm going to. Why don't you go wait with your family?"

George nodded, his eyes misty and red. I watched him walk over to his family, who greeted him with tight embraces and soothing words.

George was right, though—it wasn't Fred I was looking at. Fred's skin was already graying and his clothes were ragged and bloodied. With his eyes closed, he looked like he could be sleeping. I kneeled down next to his body and touched his hand. It was cool.

"Way to die, asshole." I choked on a sob and a laugh. Fred wouldn't have wanted me to be sappy. I imagined him watching me speak, Cedric by his side. "I'll miss your stupid jokes and sexual innuendos. And the way you always made everything better." I paused, and watched George and Percy hug—both men were crying. "Do me a favor: watch over your family. They really need you right now, especially George." I took a deep breath. "I guess I'll see you later, Freddie. I love you."

I stood too quickly and hurried over to the Weasleys. When George saw me, he instinctively wiped the tears off of my cheeks.

"Let's go home," Arthur urged, his voice soft. And together, the Weasley family left the Great Hall for home, the Burrow.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: One more chapter left...**


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue  
><strong>

**Three years later**

The world around me dissolved when I closed my eyes. I rocked back and forth in the rocking chair, feeling the gentle rhythm of my breathing match the rhythm of the small bundle in my arms.

Fleur sighed sadly and said mournfully, "I thought I was going to be the first to have a baby."

I peeked open my eyes, and saw Fleur watching me from the couch opposite my rocking chair. Her belly was bulging; she was due any day.

"It's not a contest, love," I reassured her.

"I got married first. I thought it was a safe assumption," she reiterated.

I smirked. "It's hard to assume anything with George Weasley."

"We know. Mum's still mad at you guys for your wedding." I didn't hear Ginny move into the living room, but suddenly her hands were holding my chair still. She lowered her voice, "Oh, Fred's asleep!"

"Finally," I agreed. Baby Fred, only two weeks old, was completely immobile. He had the same sleepy face as his father, but the small tufts of blonde hair sticking from his scalp identified me as his mother. "And it wasn't a wedding at all. It was—"

"An elopement," Fleur and Ginny choired. The girls smiled knowingly at each other. Ginny joined her sister-in-law on the couch.

"We didn't want to wait anymore," I rationalized for what must have been the hundredth time. I closed my eyes and remembered George's excited face on that September the first almost three years ago. Our marriage was the beginning of his recovery—the return of his smile.

It was truly a spur of the moment decision. With so much sadness weighing us down—George's never-ending grieving process, and my sudden onset PTSD and subsequent quitting of St. Mungo's—meant a lot of hard decisions and sleepless nights. But that morning the Hogwarts train left for school, George suddenly proposed, "Let's get married today." So we went to the Ministry and did just that.

Molly was furious, of course, but everyone else understood. Molly had been looking forward to the celebration, but I wasn't having fun planning a wedding that Fred couldn't attend.

"Like you couldn't wait to have a baby?" Ginny teased.

I glanced at baby Fred, who wiggled briefly before drifting off again.

"No," I quipped, "he was an accident."

"Victoire was planned," Fleur bragged. I rolled my eyes, but my sister-in-law didn't see.

Getting pregnant so young was not on my and George's to-do list. I seriously considered abortion for a brief period of time, but when it came down to it, I knew that George and I could handle it. We had bought a house two months after we got married, business was still booming (so much so that George and I opened a new shop in Hogsmeade to a massive reception), and George desperately wanted a baby. George was a passionate and dedicated father; he loved little Fred with all his heart and then some.

"I'm glad Fred will be able to grow up with his beautiful cousin though," I told Fleur sincerely. The blonde woman smiled warmly.

"Victoire can keep little Fred in line," she joked.

"Maybe he'll be in Ravenclaw, like me." I brushed my son's soft skin.

"His pranks will be cleverer then," Ginny laughed.

"No dungbombs, then?" George entered the room. He swiftly kissed the top of my head and then he knelt down next to my chair. Gently, he brushed Fred's cheek and pressed his lips against his soft skin.

"He'll do better than that," Percy followed after George. The brothers sat on the couch next to my rocking chair. "He is half Michelle too."

"With any luck, let's hope it's more than half," George joked, and the room laughed.

Fred whined warningly. The baby was a time bomb, ready to blow at any moment.

"Nap time's over," Ron crowed. He joined his brothers on the couch. Harry and Hermione followed him in the room; Harry joined his fiancé on the couch, while Hermione stood by my chair.

"Thanks to you twats," I scowled. The room laughed. Fred moaned louder.

"I hope twat is his first word," George teased. He scooped his son from my arms and slowly, gently, pressed Fred to his chest.

"We can only hope," Harry added encouragingly.

"Twat," Ginny nodded.

"You guys," I said teasingly.

The room smiled encouragingly. George rocked our son in his arms, quieting Fred.

Family is the perfect healing process.

**Fin**


End file.
